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conchcronch · 14 days

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Primal Hunger

Astarion x You

You and your party are currently taking a rare moment of respite at the Last Light Inn. Everyone is fast asleep in preparation for what you can only assume is going to be a lengthy battle with whatever waits for you at Moonrise, everyone except a certain pale elf who has been acting even more prickly then normal. Of course you have to go find him, it’s really the only option.

NSFW Below the Cut

You rolled over, sitting up and glancing around the room we had all piled into the moment we had gotten to Last Light, wanting to take every chance we had to rest up before storming Moonlight tomorrow.

You mentally took a head count out of habit, Shadowheart, Karlach, Wyll, and Gale, who had fallen asleep with a tome on his face, but there was one missing. The one who had been acting more irritable and standoff-ish than usual. You pulled yourself out of the bed, a shiver running down your spine as your bare feet touched the cold wooden floors. You reach over and grabbed the blanket that was folded at the bottom of the bed, wrapping it around yourself. You open the door just enough to squeeze out and shut it behind you. The inn was as silent as it could get, the crackle of the fire in the makeshift kitchen was the only sound, you could hear gentle chanting from Isabel’s room as you tiptoe by.

The night air is frigid and stagnant, no breeze could be felt despite being surrounded by water. The torches and the radiant glow surrounded the whole area, making it easy enough to glance outside the inn to see the man is no where in sight. Begrudgingly, you step outside, still barefooted, the dirt under your feet feels oddly familiar after spending so many nights at camp. As you walk behind the inn towards the water and small dock you can hear a quiet curse as you round the corner.

There he is, almost completely obscured. If you hadn’t been looking for him you would have walked right by. It was hard to make him out as he crouched in the shadow of the balcony of the inn. “There you are,” You take a step towards him only to see his form step backwards.

“Go away.” His tone is curt and sharp, a broken breath that you can barely hear.

“You’ve been off all day, I’ve been worried,” Another step closer from you to which he steps back, like a dance of avoidance has been enacted between the two of you.

“I’ll be fine, I just…I just need you to leave.” You’ve never heard this tone from him, you’ve heard him be smug, rude, sincere (you think) and even mean, but this is different. There is a hint of desperation underlining each word.

“I’m not going to leave.” You say gently, reaching a hand out to him, almost as though you’re showing him you aren’t hiding a dagger behind your back.

“You need to go.” He steps back again, but as he does this he leaves the shadows that has been shrouding him. The moon seems brighter tonight, maybe Isabel is preying harder than normal or maybe it’s just how the light reflects off his near translucent skin. The lines in his face are deeper, his features more sunken in than they seemed even a few hours ago. His eyes appear more black than red and his lips are dry and so cracked they would have probably bled if he had any blood of his own.

“Gods,” You whisper before you can stop yourself. You can see him cringe at the word, he looks away and you swear you saw a slight quiver of his chin. You can tell he’s about to bolt so you clear the distance between the two of you before he has time to react, clearly his reflexes are dulled in his current state. You grab his wrist tightly. He tugs weakly once, twice, then gives in. “Tell me what’s wrong.” You cup his cheek and pull his face towards you, seeing his eyes up close, you know something is wrong.

“I haven’t eaten.”

“For how long?” He used his free hand to rub his face, sighing heavily.

“Not since we left the Underdark.”

“That was four days ago, Astarion!” You scold.

“Obviously that wasn’t my goal,” He replies, nose scrunching as he speaks.

“Why don’t we go and find you something to eat? I can hold the lantern so the shadows st-��

“Absolutely not, for so many reasons.” He tears his arm from your grasp, but doesn’t leave.

“Why not?”

“Hm, let me see, for starters, you will never see me hunt, ever.” He looks at you and you can tell he’s serious. “Second, I can’t eat anything from out there,” He dramatically points in the direction of the cursed lands.

“What about the Ox?” You ask, pointing to that creature that has been giving you looks since the Grove. You couldn’t put your finger on it but something seemed really off about it, and maybe having Astarion drain it wouldn’t be the worst thing.

“I can last a few more days,” He says, clearly trying to convince himself as well as you.

“You don’t look like you can.” The hand that’s still on his cheek trails down to his shoulder, you want to move it lower, to feel his chest inhale and exhale the unnecessary breaths he takes.

“All we have to do is return those ridiculous orbs and find whatever this relic is, then we’ll be rid of this place. Then I can eat.” You know deep in your heart that there’s way more to tomorrow than finding the Nightsong and getting out of here. But you don’t want to debate that with him.

“I need you at your best tomorrow. We don’t know what’s down there and I can’t risk you acting impulsive.” You hold his face with both hands now, forcing him to look at you and only you.

“Rude.” Is all he can manage.

“Astarion, you need to eat.”

“Oh do I? See I thought if I just wait around eventually I’ll start to feel better.” You’re not in the mood for his tood, and he can tell that by your unimpressed expression. “I’m open to ideas, but all of your’s have been rather shit thus far.” You wrap your arms around his waist, ear against his chest where a heart beat once was, but hasn’t been for 2 centuries.

“My sweet, I can’t be this close to you right now…” His voice is clearly showing his restraint but you tighten your arms around his waist before he has a chance to pull away.

“Just ask.”

“No.” His voice was tight and he pulls his head away as though you smell foul.

“What if I offer?” You leaned forward, standing up on your toes so you can press your lips to his scar.

“I won’t be able to stop.” His voice shakes.

“You’ve stopped before.”

“Not when I’m this hungry.” You let go of him, opting to cup his cheeks in both hands, guiding him to look at you. His eyes are glassy and you can tell for the first time since you had met him that his mask was cracking and you were seeing the real Astarion.

“I know you,” Slowly your words began to sink in and you saw him begin to relax into your grasp. Moving carefully, as though he was trying to avoid spooking an animal, he leaned into you, resting his head on your shoulder and you nuzzling into the crook of his neck. You could feel him breathe in your scent, a broken whine barely slipping from his chapped lips. “I trust you, my love.”

“I’m just so hungry.” He all but sobbed into you as you rubbed his back in an attempt to sooth him.

“I know my sweet, I’m right here. Take what you need.” He whines again as his nose brushes against your neck.

”If I don’t stop y-“

“You will.” You cut him off.

”If I don’t,” He tears himself away from your neck looking at you with a clenched jaw. “You do whatever you have to to get me away from me.” You nod but know it’s not enough for him “I need to hear you agree.” His hands are on your waist, you can feel the pads of his fingers press into your shirt.

“I promise.” You barely get the words out before he’s at your neck. First is the feeling of his tongue, immediately finding your pulse point before the familiar sting of his fangs piercing the skin takes over.

You try to focus on anything other than the pain. A practice you had adopted early into the relationship. You hone in on the way his fingers grip at your sleep shirt, balling the fabric in his fists. The way he pulls you against him to a point where it almost hurts. He’s moaning into your neck as his tongue laps against your skin, trying to take all he can. He lets go of your shirt but only long enough to slip under your clothes, desperate for the warmth your body is offering him. Your eyes flutter closed when you feel your knees start to weaken, having no intention of stopping him if this is what he needs, you’re not going to stop him.

You’re barely aware of his fangs pulling from your neck or the long lick of his tongue cleaning your skin before he steps back. He’s panting, your blood smeared all over his lips. “Gods,” You know you’re paler than before, you can feel your head swim for a moment before he grabs you, guiding you to sit on the grass beneath your feet. “I think that was better than the first time.”

You reach out, dragging your thumb over his lips to collect as much of your blood from him as you can before bringing it to his lips. His tongue immediately darts out before he encircles your small wrist and guides your thumb into his mouth, lips wrapping around the digit and sucking hard. He can’t help the moan, his eyes fluttering closed to savor the way it felt to finally find sustenance. His eyes eventually open and his grip on your wrist loosens to allow your thumb to fall from his lips. He looks at you for the first time since you had sat down, he takes in your paler skin and the ways your eyelids seem heavier than they had in days. ”I didn’t even ask,” He brings a hand to you, pushing some of your hair behind your pointed ears. “Are you alright?” His voice was softer than it had been since you had left the Underdark and as you nod slowly. He exhales a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “I feel alright, how do you feel?”

He moves from kneeling to sitting beside you, pushing his hand through his curled hair, “I haven’t felt this good in decades.” He laughs lightly, “And once again, I’m indebted to you for saving my life.” You sigh out a laugh before leaning your head on his shoulder.

”I’m just glad to see you’re back to your usual fickle but cocky self.” He laughs, the sound is music to your ears.

“Was I that bad?” You internally debate how honest you should be, one side of you wanting to be honest for the sake of your party but the other side wanting to cut him some slack since he wasn’t himself.

“You were-“ You chose your words carefully, taking time to select the most accurate descriptor you could, “more difficult than normal, especially to Gale.” He laughed, the tips of his fangs catching the moonlight in a spectacular way.

“Well, as long as it was only Gale.” A comfortable silence falls between you, he turns his head to press a kiss to your hair before shifting onto his hip so he’s facing you. With a single finger he pulls your chin up, his lips pressing to yours in what felt like the first time in forever. “My poor pup,” His lips move over yours, his breath smelling like nothing, a trait that had caught you off guard weeks ago but you now found oddly comforting. “I’ve been neglecting you” He gently tsks as he tilts your head to the side, exposing the fresh puncture marks he had left. “Would you allow me to make it up to you?” He breathes between kisses to your neck that are very slowly moving further down.

“A-all the rooms are full.” The sound of your own stutter surprises you, your body reacting much quicker then it had, even more so then the first time he had propositioned you after the goblin camp. His hand slipped under your camp shirt, your stomach tightening at his chilled touch as it slowly slid from your navel to just under your breast.

“We’ve done it outside before, what’s another time?” He notices the way your eyes scan the makeshift safe haven, the way you whip your head around at the sound of a guard doing a patrol along the balcony, knowing they would get quite a show. He pushes himself up, extending a hand to you. You take it, allowing him to pull you up before leading you underneath the balcony where you had first found him shrouded by shadow. “Is this more to your liking?” You nod, feeling better pressed against the cool wood of the tavern.

He kisses you again, this time slowly. His tongue sliding along the roof of your mouth before pulling back just long enough for you to whine until he leaned back in again. His hands both slipped under your shirt, no longer playing coy and running the pads of his thumbs over your pebbled nipples simultaneously, earning a heavy sigh into the kiss. “My sweet, I want to show you how grateful I am to you for taking such a risk just to feed a pitiful vampire.” You run a hand through his curled tresses, enjoying the way he leaned into your touch.

“Don’t sell yourself short, you’re pretty handsome too.” You smile, he returns it.

“A pitiful, but handsome vampire then.” Without another word he drops to his knees. One hand opting to grab your hip, pushing you against the wall as though you were going to slip away if he let you go. The other he used to guide your leg over his shoulder then pushing your long skirt up your thigh until you took the signal and held it in place so he could use his now free hand to pull aside your panties. A heavy sigh leaving your lips as soon as you felt his breath on your neglected core. “It truly has been a long time, hasn’t it?” His hand touches you before his mouth, his fingers pulling you open before his nose nudges against your clit, his eyes watching you the same way you’re sure he watches his prey.

“It-it hasn’t been that long…” You lie, a whine coming from your throat as his tongue licked a long strip and you could feel him smile against you.

“I’ve left my sweet pet neglected, but I’ll be sure to make it up to you.” His breath is burning hot against you, and it takes everything you have not to grab his head and force his face into you. And as though he was using that pesky tadpole to read your thoughts, he wastes no more time and flicks the tip of his tongue against your clit as he slips a single finger into you. You can feel him hum as he pulls the finger from you, pulls his head back so he’s sure you can see how he licks the digit, sucking your slick clean off. “Every part of you tastes,” He pauses to exhale heavily, “exquisite” you couldn’t help but moan at his words, your head lolling back when he finally slipped the finger back inside of you.

As he adds a second finger inside of you, his lips encircling your clit and sucking not hard enough to hurt, but just enough to provide stimulation as his fingers stretched you open. Your fingers find their rightful place tangled in his curls, feeling how he hums into you when you tug gently. “Please, my sweet,” he moans against your core, his breath coming out in hot puffs against you. “I need you to cum on my tongue.” His tone has morphed into a whine, his lips releasing your clit in favor of licking long stripes from your hole, slipping past the muscle to momentarily join his fingers before moving up to your bundle of nerves for a second, repeating this over and over. He adds a third finger but you barely notice, your fingers locking his hair in a tight fist while your other hand is held over your mouth to keep from drawing any attention. Your hips begin to move with him, your mound chasing after his tongue if it leaves you for even a second. He can feel that you're close, your walls tremble with each thrust of your hips and your thighs are covered in your own juices. His lips return to your clit once more, his hand that wasn’t inside of you moving up to have a tight grip on your hip as he flicks his gaze up to you. He clocks the way your knees tremble when you stare down at him, meeting his gaze. He wishes you would remove your hand from your mouth so he could hear all your beautiful noises, all the breathy moans, all the shakey pleas. But those would have to wait until you had a proper room, or at the very least, his tent.

He pulls his lips away from your clit just long enough to speak, his fingers producing an absolutely filthy squelch every time they were thrusted inside fully, “My pet, I need you to cum for me,” You nod with eyebrows knit together, your hair falling in front of your face but you can’t tear your eyes away from his. “Can you do that for me?” You watch as he teasingly flicks the tip of his tongue against your nub before pressing his mouth against you again. You can feel him moan into you, feel the way he lets his fangs graze over your most sensitive tissue, but what truly sends you cascading over the edge was the way he had caught your ankle between his thighs and was at the point of rutting against you, his tented trousers feeling cool against your bare leg. The wave of orgasm washed over you like a welcomed tsunami, you were thankful for the hand you had over your mouth because there was no way in heavens or hells you were able to stop the way your mouth hung open, your moans turning into whimpers as your bucking against his face sputtered before slowing as you rode it out. His fingers remained inside of you, very slowly moving in and out of your soaked hole until your hips came to a complete stop.

When your eyes finally opened, you were greeted with the sight of Astarion who had shifted to sitting between your legs, his erection very apparent as he greedily licked and sucked as his fingers, his eyes trained on yours. “And here I thought your blood was the most delicious thing about you.” His voice was smug but the smile that spread across his glossy lips was sincere.

You couldn’t resist him much longer. Your apprehension of there being people around was forgotten the moment you saw the way he was sucking at his fingers, his fingers that mere seconds ago had been deep inside you, lolling you to your crashing orgasm. And now you wanted to return the favor, you wanted to be the reason people were closing their windows in the tavern, the reason your party were holding pillows over their heads in an attempt to block out the moans you unsuccessfully tried to muffle.

You were quick to drop to the ground, and even quicker to close the distance between him and you. Your hand was the first part of you to touch him, loving the way he let out a heavy sign before leaning forward in search of a kiss. His lips tasted like you, both your blood and your arousal, two tastes you had quickly become accustomed to when it came to having him as a partner. The way his fangs grazed over your lips as you kissed sent a tingle all the way down to your soaked core that was already ready to go again. You press a hand to his chest with just a little bit of force behind it, pushing him back to the ground. Before he can question you, likely to complain that you dared to end the kiss before he was ready, you reached between your legs to pull your panties off completely, balling them up and shoving them into one of his pant pockets. His furrowed brow immediately relaxed when you straddled his hips, knowing you instantly made the front of his trousers wet but not caring in the slightest. You ground against his covered crotch a few times, watching as his brows knitted together again, his eyes squeezing shut as a growl came from deep in the back of his throat. He didn’t have to say anything, you knew he was frustratingly swollen, and truthfully as much as you love teasing him whenever given the chance, but it had been much too long and you found yourself nothing short of feral.

You made quick work of the laces holding his pants closed, wrenching them open the moment they were loose enough. You pushed his blue underwear down and couldn’t help the moan when you finally held his member in your hand. His hips subconsciously bucked urging you to run your thumb over the bead of precum at the tip, smearing it over his head. You loved the moments where he became putty in your hand. The times when he would be whiny, begging you to do anything to him, rutting against you while nearly sobbing into your mouth as though he had never been touched before. You sat yourself on the tops of his thighs, your hand slowly working his girthy cock, leaning down to press your lips to his neck. The smell of bergamot and rosemary filled your nostrils, a whine could be heard at the back of his throat when you sucked at the scars on his neck. You could see the tips of his fangs as he chewed at his bottom lip trying to keep himself quiet as you worked your hand up and down his shaft, working your wrist in a circular rhythm. “You’re so needy” you breathe against his neck, his hips canting at your words.

“You’re one to talk.” A sentence that would normally be dripping in snark is instead said like a plea.

“Is that anyway to speak to your savior?” You couldn’t hold back the smile that danced across your lips at the thought of you being his savior. The ache between your legs was becoming more than you wished to bear. You let go of his member, a soft ah fell from his open lips as you brought yourself up on your knees just enough to be able to guide him to your entrance. You rubbed his head along your lips a few times, using your hand to hold up the front of your skirt so he can see the way his cock nudged against your clit before you push it back towards your dripping hole. Before you can push him inside, his cool hands run up your thighs until they can grab your hips applying just enough downward force to get the message across. You lower yourself down, feeling every inch of him slide into you, the slight burn of his girth stretching you out more than his fingers could have. Your skirt falls from your hand as you brace yourself on his still cloth covered chest, your fingers clawing at the fabric.

“Gods” He breathes as he bottoms out, a hand pulling out from under your skirt to pull at the lances holding your shirt closed, his pace getting more and more desperate the longer it takes before he just starts pulling at them until it’s loose enough he can wrench the fabric below your breasts. You begin riding him, pulling off him slowly before inching back, loving the way you stretched wider then any partner has before. With his free hand he grabs the fabric that’s bunched under your chest, yanking you down to him, catching you completely off guard, almost causing you to lose your balance before he catches you with his lips to yours. His hand that had been on your chest somehow snaked to your hip, balling your skirt in his fist and trying to set the pace of your bounces. ”Go faster, gods dammit”

“A-Astarion” You moaned into him, trying to pull back from him to speak again but his lips chanced your’s anytime you tried to flee. You began moving your hips in a circle, wanting to lean back so you could force his cock to hit against your spongy g spot but his grip on your shirt held you firmly in place. When you manage to open your eyes you’re greeted with his crimson gaze, his lips parted enough that you can see his tongue sliding between his parted teeth watching your every move. You can’t help but wantonly moaning at the attention, his girth filling you in a way nothing else did. Your eyes flutter closed once more, the sound of your slick against his leather pants seems deafening, only being dwarfed by any moan that slips past your lips.

“You’re doing so good for me.” His voice sounds as though it’s dripping in honey, the tone alone making you whine. He thrusted his hips up, his tip hitting you as deep as it could. “I wish I could have you splayed out to toy with all night.” You drop your head, your long hair falling in front of your face as though it were a makeshift veil that he has to slip the hand through just to pull your face up to look at him again. “Don’t you dare hide from me, little minx.” His tone is almost mocking, but it only serves to make you even wetter, something you were confident wasn’t even possible. ”I have a task for you.” His thumb glides from your chin to your lips, his thumb guiding your mouth open enough that he could slip it through your teeth, toying with your tongue. He allows you to nod, almost helping you move your head up and down. “I want you to cum on my cock,” His eyes follow the way you sway, the burning iron in your gut searing white hot and your thighs beginning to feel like the jelly Gale spreads on his toast every morning with his cup of tea. “Can you do that for me?” His thumb slips from your mouth, opting to caress your neck with feather light touches, lingering over your fresh puncture marks. You nod but he smiles, shaking his head “No no my pet, I need to hear you say it.” You can tell he’s enjoying this game, a game you didn’t agree to play but were happily participating in all the same.

“Yes.” Your voice is raw like metal over a grinding wheel, clearly you had been moaning louder then you realized.

“What a good girl.” His light touches turned to a grasp, his fingers wrapping around your neck not with the intention of restricting air flow, but as a means of control. He pushed you back, your back arching beautifully, your chest for all to see if someone happened to be around. You’re quick to catch yourself, your hands on his thighs as you begin to chase the feeling you’ve been dancing around since you got on top of him. With his free hand he grabs the fabric of your skirt, pinning it to your side where he holds you so he’s able to watch you take him with ease. He watches every time his pale cock slides out from your soaked hole, his shaft glistening in your slick. He wants to speak, wants to tell you how good you look taking him with such ease, how he’s trained you so well, but instead he turns his focus to chasing his own climax, hips thrusting up as much as the position would allow. His grip on your neck slips, opting to toy with your pebbled nipple, your mouth falling open as a whine comes out, his eyes switching from your cunt to your cock drunk expression. Your mouth is hanging open and your eyes closed, focused on throwing yourself over the edge.

Orgasm crashes into like force damage, knocking the wind from your lungs. His grip is back on your neck as you lose any real control over your body, riding him through your climax. You barely register how he pulls you down, his head resting on his shoulder, your lips grazing his neck as you feel him begin to thrust into you at an erratic pace. “I’m going to-“ He grunts his arms wrapping around your body, holding you tight against him as he rushes towards his peak “I’m going to make you mine” He growls in your ear before sinking his teeth into you again, barely a breath before you feel his warmth flood you. His hips sputtering, fucking his seed into you as his nails bit into the clothes you’re somehow still clad in. He pulls his fangs from your neck, his tongue greedily lapping at the blood that flows from the wounds. His thrusts become weaker until they finally slow to a stop, he’s holding onto you but you’re no longer in a vice grip. With one final suck on your neck he pulls away, his body going limp, finally satiated. You follow him, laying down on his chest, his softening cock slipped from you and the feeling of his seed cooling between your thighs would normally force you to your feet with the intention of cleaning up but not tonight. Tonight you laid on top of him trying to catch your breath that had long since raced away from you. His arms encircling your waist as though you were going to get up and leave at any second. Astarion found great comfort in your breathing, feeling your heartbeat against his long stilled chest felt strangely calming, as though you shared that steady rhythmic beat.

#ao3 #ao3 author #astarion x reader #astarion smut #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate tav #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x you

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barry-j-blupjeans · 1 year

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No one ever told Lucretia how hard it would be to get employees for your supposed-to-be-secret organization. Even harder with the fact that she couldn't even step around it like the Fantasy FBI could. All her opening lines sounded incredibly suspicious. Was she supposed to just walk up to someone and say "so you ever wanna capture those war-starting magic objects that you have no memory of?" She might actually be reported to the Fantasy FBI and that would put a bit of a dent in her "saving the world and stopping the Hunger" plan.

Instead, she had just been just kind of… going up to anyone who sort of seemed like a good fit and tried to make it sound as less shitty as possible without giving them a headache made entirely of Voidfish static. And it was working! Not as well as she'd want it to, of course, but she would take what she would get.

Maureen, obviously, had been there at the start. Lucretia couldn't exactly have a giant moon base without someone with enough money to build the giant moon base. Technically, technically, she was paying Maureen for it and she felt moderately bad about fucking up the economy with her transmuted gold coins (you pick up a thing or two about counterfeit currency when you're on the run from the apocalypse and also living with Taako and Lup), but not bad enough to stop doing it. Besides, the dang thing wasn't even up in the sky yet. Maybe she'd confess after, but it was too important to let out right now.

Then, she had Lucas, unfortunately. The side effect of working with Maureen. But she had other notable employees as well. Killian was probably her strongest asset right now, purely from her role as a Regulator and not a Reclaimer. Her Seekers were few and far between- she couldn't really hire anyone with too high of an intelligence stat, lest her whole plan be discovered. The few Seekers she did have were… well, they were working on it. The Reclaimers themselves… yeesh. It was hard to fill the role without losing too many to the Light's thrall. She didn't want to have a goddamn death trap as a job.

But right now, Lucretia wasn't looking for a Reclaimer, a Seeker, or even a Regulator. Today, she was looking for a bard.

A pathetic bard, if she could. There was only so much nonsense Lucretia could feed Fisher without going moderately to severely insane. The goal right now was to just find someone. No one that would be missed down planetside when they finally got up into the air, no one whose fans would be eagerly awaiting a new release. Just a plain ol' regular bard.

This was the fifth seedy bar Lucretia had visited in the past week. This time, it was in a little town called Water Way, just off the sword coast. The wind was howling when she arrived and it snapped the door shut behind her when she entered.

It was even more grim and disgusting than usual. A group of dwarfs was gathered at a booth, laughing and hollering jokes at each other. There was a couple in the corner engaging in some hanky-panky (that was the technical word for it, Lucretia was pretty sure). The unoccupied booths were still dirty from the last patrons. The barkeep raised a hand to greet her, still clutching a dirty dish rag.

"Here for a drink?" he called.

"Not at the moment, I'm afraid," Lucretia said. "I'm here for the, uhm. The open mic?"

"Just missed it," the barkeep said, lowering his rag. "Though, we've got another in two weeks' time, if you've got somethin' you're looking to perform-"

"Oh, I'm not- I wasn't planning on performing," Lucretia said. "Just listening. But if no one showed up-"

The door snapped open again. Lucretia thought it was just the wind for a second, until she turned and saw a young-ish half-elf in the doorway. He was much too dressed up for the occasion, with a fancy shirt and a poofy hat with a feather in it. He was dripping as if he had fallen into a lake on the way over. In one hand was a violin case. In the other, damp sheet music.

He seemed to realize that everyone was staring at him and shuffled a few feet further inside.

"Uhh," he said. He cleared his throat. "Did I, uhm, did I miss it?"

"I said to be here at six, didn't I?" the barkeep said, sounding faintly annoyed. "Can you tell time, Johann?"

"Uh, yeah," he said. "I just, uhm, got… sidetracked."

"You look like you fell in the ocean," the barkeep said.

"You're not- you're not super far off-"

"It doesn't matter where you were," the barkeep said. "It's nine now, anyhow. No more open mic."

"It's not like we're missin' much!" one of the dwarfs' hollered. Johann winced, and the barkeeper ignored the comment completely.

"But I wrote a good one this time," Johann said, holding up the soggy sheet music. Lucretia could see him blush in the dim light. "I- I can do it without the sheet music. I have it memorized."

"Two weeks," the barkeep said like they had had this conversation several times before. "Be on time. You want a cuppa?"

Johann looked torn for a second, but ultimately sludged up to the bar. He deposited his violin case on the counter and his soggy sheet music fell on top of it with a splat.

"Actually," Lucretia said, "I would like a drink."

"Atta girl," the barkeep said. Lucretia grimaced but went to sit anyway. She took the stool next to Johann, who was slumped over the bar. "What'd'you want?"

"Cider," Johann said, with the emotion of a depressed seal.

"I'll take a cider, as well," Lucretia said. Johann glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. The barkeep nodded and set the rag over his shoulder, disappearing into the back room. The gaggle of dwarves chattered on across the room. Lucretia tapped her fingers against the bar. Eventually, she built up the confidence to say, "so you play the violin?"

"I'm not interested in a hookup, lady," Johann said.

"Oh, fuck no," Lucretia said. "Sorry- no. You're- gods, no."

"Uhm," Johann said. Okay, okay, okay, back on track Lucretia.

"I'm just- I'm trying to find a bard for an… organization I'm forming," Lucretia said, a little bit quieter. Secretive. Cool. Collected. Join my secret shitty moon organization, please? "I figured an open mic would be a good place to start, but I was a little too late, it seems. If you still wanted to perform, I wouldn't mind seeing what you can do."

"…you're choosing all the wrong words for convincing me this isn't a hookup," Johann said, squinting at her.

"It's not," Lucretia said shortly. "That- again, sorry, no thanks. Can I- how would you like to help save the world? Is that a better opener?"

"Cheesy, but a little better," Johann said. He sit up a little and his hat dripped water onto the bar. "Save the world how, though? I'm not gonna be joining some- some Fantasy Avengers shit, lady, I got stuff to do. You see these arms?" He held out his arm, which was dripping wet and skinny as a starved kitten. "I'm not exactly Iron Man over here, you can't expect me to be some kind of musical tank."

"Not at all," Lucretia said. She vaguely wondered if this is how Davenport felt, hiring her. No, that train of thought wasn't productive at all. She needed more gravitas. That would fix all her problems. "All I need you to do is write."

#lucretia #johann #taz lucretia #taz johann #taz #taz balance #minse #ise cube writing #thought about this all day at work today lskdfsdf #if u see any typos no u don't! I'm sleeby #tw alcohol mention #<- just bc they're in a bar i think #to be safe

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ravs6709 · 5 months

Text

An X-Ray Ain't Needed To See Within- Dex Study (ish), Minor Fedex

Word count: 7.9k words

Ao3 link here.

Aaaaaaaand here I am, nearly a whole month late, but my kotlc secret santa gift from @song-tam 's exchange is finally done!

@an-ungraceful-swan I'm your secret santa!!! So sorry for being as late as I am (the shit going on in my personal life was unreal) but I hope this near 8k fic will make up for the wait!

Because I was told to just "surprise you", I let the brain pick out a concept and spun it around in my head until this fic was made

That is, I took the vague premise of a fic from a different fandom -> the idea that every person is to be entrusted with taking care of someone else's heart—quite literally. Other than that, it's basically a canon rewrite of books 1-4 (ish, not all through 4) from dex pov with minor (pre-relationship) fedex

Warnings: depiction of the kidnapping/torture scene from book 1, bug stab Fitz scene from book 4, descriptions of heart anatomy (not too graphic but still fair warning), brief mention of vomit

Hope you enjoy!

•~•~•~•~•~•

"What's that?" A young Dex asked his mom. He'd barged into his parents' room without warning them, and saw Juline holding a heart in her hands, singing softly while Kesler held her hand with one hand, holding a different heart in the other.

"They're hearts," Juline said, but Dex knew that much.

"Why?" There were a whole slew of questions, like why the hearts were beating despite not being connected to a body, or why they were coloured in different shades of blue and green and yellow even though they should have been red, or where they even got a heart from. Dex was just barely older than a toddler, and while elves were born with some understanding of the world around them from birth, he’d never seen this before.

Kesler and Juline shared a look, and Dex didn't like that his mom was starting to frown. Was this supposed to be a secret?

"I don't want him to know everything yet," Juline said.

"He'll have to know eventually," Kesler said, "and it's not that bad."

Juline raised an eyebrow. "Tell me you weren't terrified when you first held a heart in your hand. I know I was."

"Fine, yes, but we'll help him adjust. The risk is minimal, very few have--"

"But she was one of them. Kesler, please," Juline said, her voice quiet, "We'll wait until he's older, okay? He’ll already have enough on his plate as is."

Kesler closed his eyes and took a breath, then squeezed her hand. "Sorry, I didn't think of her--okay. We’ll wait."

"Wait until I'm old enough for what?" Dex asked.

His parents both startled, turning to look at him, as if they'd forgotten he was right there.

Juline hummed, letting go of Kesler's hand so that she could trace gentle lines across Dex's face. "I'll tell you a little bit, but I won't tell you the rest until you're older, okay? Once it’s relevant to you."

"How much older?"

"Three years," Kesler answered.

For Dex, that sounded like a really long time. But as young as he knew he was, he was old enough to be able to tell when there were certain topics that made his parents upset. Abilities were one of them. Discussing the triplets with the other elves was another. He didn't know all the details, but he knew that the other elves didn't like his parents and they thought his siblings were wrong, and he knew they didn't like talking about those things in front of him.

Dex nodded. "Okay."

Juline held the heart out to him. "When you grow older, you'll have a heart to take care of."

The heart in her hand was a myriad of colours, it reminded him of Slurps and Burps with all the random splotches of colours all over it.

"Does it bleed?" Dex asked.

Juline smiled at him. "No, it doesn't. Do you want to touch it?"

He nodded, curious. When she held the heart out to him, he gently traced a finger along an artery. It was warm. It really was beating, and he didn’t imagine it.

“It represents the heart of another elf."

"Another elf?"

"It represents your dad's heart. It's beautiful, isn't it?"

"Dad's heart?" Dex looked at Kesler, who had a fond look on his face. He was cradling a heart of his own in his hands, this one lacked the same colourful whimsy, but the various shades of blue with hints of colour had Dex thinking that it suited his mother. He opened his mouth to ask if elves always married the person who held their heart, then realized that was a stupid question because the elves didn't like his parents' marriage.

"Will I get a heart to hold too?" Dex asked.

"Yeah. You will."

•~•~•~•~•~•

What Dex assumed to be "several years later," Dex woke up and found a teal heart on the nightstand beside his bed. Blue-green, with hints of navy and gold that seemed to trace along where the blood would have flowed had the heart been in an actual body.

He'd had full intention of just lazing in bed for the entire morning, but he knew he had to tell his parents. He took the heart in his hands, beating softly, a rhythm unfamiliar to him. He walked to his parents room--they were already awake, Kesler preparing for work, while Juline was gently carrying her husband’s heart.

"Dex?" Kesler asked, "what's up--oh."

"It's about time he received his heart to hold," Juline said. "Dex, come sit down on the bed."

He sat down. Despite how he'd seen them direct plenty of fond looks towards their own hearts, neither of them seemed particularly excited to talk about his heart.

"To have a heart means to take care of it. But there's more to it than that, isn't there?" Dex asked.

"Let me be blunt with you," Juline said. She looked pained, her turquoise eyes slightly dull. "You must take care of your heart. If you do not take care of it well, the person who that heart belongs to will die."

To the average elf, it would probably have an initial shock. Elves lived forever, as far as they all knew. Elvin deaths were rare, a few wanderlings planted, but still, only a few.

To Dex, he himself had never witnessed a death. He had never known, never had been in this world long enough to know, but still, he knew, he knew that his family was haunted by a death from before he was born, and that because of it, he rarely ever got to see his aunt and uncle because they isolated themselves from everyone else. He'd never be able to grow up knowing her.

"Did cousin Jolie's heart..?"

"Her body was in a condition where she could have lived," Juline said, looking away. "But her heart–her heart had been burnt too much in the fire."

"Oh," he said, because what else could he say?

"To take care of that heart, you must keep it physically safe. But not just that, you also need to keep it emotionally safe too. An emotional or mental issue can be just as severe as a physical one."

"So I'll need to keep it around me often," Dex understood.

Kesler nodded, reaching out to ruffle his hair. "It'll be fine. Elf hearts aren't too fragile, so don't stress too much, okay?" Then looked down at his heart that was Juline's, the blues looking slightly pale. "You'll be able to recognize signs beforehand." He traced along an artery, and Dex watched as his mother closed her eyes, the tension releasing from her shoulders. Vibrancy flowed through like blood, painting it. "I know you'll take care of it well."

•~•~•~•~•~•

On occasion, Dex noticed how the heart would react differently. It wasn't at any regular occurrence, though it always seemed to last a few hours at a time. When that happened, he held the heart closer, turning it over in his palm. It tended to have a slow, steady pulse; the beat of a drum, the tick of a clock. Slow, steady, controlled, but during the odd moments the heartbeat would grow faster and weaker, like panic seeping into his bloodstream sometimes, when it made his skin all clammy and pale. It was the gold of the heart that would fade first, then the navy, though the teal always seemed to stay intact. At least though, the heart didn't get clammy like his hands would. No gross sweat or blood, just a beating heart.

He wasn't sure why, but sometimes he got the feeling that the elf the heart belonged to was kind of lonely. He'd seen Kesler's heart, bright and vibrant. Even Juline's had its own sort of uniqueness to it. The heart he held was beautiful, a piece of art, but distant. A painting that was not allowed to be touched after having been made.

Dex wondered how old the other elf was. The heart in his hands was smaller compared to his Kesler's or Juline's, so maybe it was possible that they were around Dex's age? He'd hope so. He'd be starting Foxfire at some point, it'd be nice if he had a friend there. One that wouldn't mind Dex being the son of a bad match, one who wouldn't be too judgmental.

•~•~•~•~•~•

When Dex started Foxfire, he had high hopes. Hopes that were quickly crushed. As he walked in the hallways, he could sense gazes following his path. No table ever wanted to let him sit there, so he tried finding random corners in the hallways to eat by himself, until one of his mentors noticed and took pity on him, allowing him to eat in that classroom. There was Stina, who openly insulted his family, so he got his revenge only for the situation between them to escalate.

And then there was Fitz Vacker. His first meeting with Fitz wasn't special, he happened to be with his dad and sister as customers for Slurps and Burps, and just like all the stuffy nobles, both him and Biana Vacker cringed at the sight of his family's apothecary. Maybe he wouldn't even have remembered him if he wasn't a Vacker. There were tons of people who shopped at the apothecary only to never acknowledge him in Foxfire. But then he saw Fitz again. And again. And again. In the hallway on his way to class. In the cafeteria as they waited in line to get the same food. The winner of the splotching tournament--had been, for years, if the screaming was to be believed.

Fitz was everywhere, popular, so many of the girls had a crush on him. He heard non-stop mooning about whether the heart they held would belong to him. Top marks, perfect looks. Dex was sick of it. Fitz wasn't special.

It made him almost want to hate the heart that he held, that teal heart that matched his eyes. He scoffed at the thought that the person whose heart he held was Fitz, or even Biana. Yet it was still a beating heart, his to nurture, and no matter how much the colour irritated him. Somewhere out there, there was someone who was relying on him. The thought alone pushed him forward.

•~•~•~•~•~•

During his next year at Foxfire, a new elf named Sophie Foster came out of nowhere. She lived with Aunt Edaline and Uncle Grady, she was an elf that once lived with humans. If that weren't cool enough, she didn't seem to care about his family and their status. Yeah, sure, it was because she didn't really know anything, period, but she still took the information in stride and chose to be friends with him.

And she was kind of cute. And smart, and totally fun--she'd gotten on Stina's bad side and destroyed Lady Galvin's cape. And...

And of course she liked Fitz. Because of course she did. Why wouldn't she? The perfect guy.

•~•~•~•~•~•

"Is that a--is that a heart?" Sophie asked.

They were taking a break in between one of Sophie's alchemy tutoring sessions, and Dex had grabbed his heart to unwind.

"Yeah? Why do you sound surprised? Don't you have one of your own?"

"No???"

Huh. That was weird. "Wonderboy didn't mention it to you or anything?"

"No??? Is this a normal elf thing?"

"Each elf gets a heart to take care of, it represents the heart of another elf. It's important, because breaking the heart means killing the elf."

"Oh. Am I exempt from this, because I don't remember a heart? Or did I accidentally kill an elf?"

"You're probably fine. While the elf who holds your heart isn't the only elf who can take care of your heart," he began, "the fact that you haven't died yourself says something. Besides, elvin deaths are super rare, remember? I can't remember the last time there was a Wanderling--Wylie Endal's mother, maybe?"

There had been a change in her facial expression, but Dex decided not to press. The Council actually explored that, ensuring there was no risk of attachment. Besides, the elf that Jolie loved--Brant, if Dex recalled his name correctly--was still alive as he proceeded to take care of his own scarred heart. That's what his mom had told him when he'd asked.

"Huh," Sophie said. "Well, whoever's heart I was supposed to take care of, I hope they're doing well."

"Yeah," Dex murmured, "me too."

•~•~•~•~•~•

Sophie started hanging out with Fitz and Biana, much to his annoyance. Like, going to his house on a constant basis hanging out. She even had him promise to keep the Wonderboy bashing to a minimum.

(But she also considered him her best friend, so he supposed he could take it as a win.)

•~•~•~•~•~•

Sophie. A Vacker. Or, potentially a Vacker. Grady and Edaline had cancelled her adoption, and she could be adopted by the Vackers. Siblings with Fitz and Biana? Gross.

Maybe he was too harsh on Sophie when he'd told her not to trust them. But she didn't understand—they didn't look at people below them and view them as equals. And it was proven as such, when Stina, of all people, exposed Biana for only having befriended Sophie because her dad told her to.

I told you so, he wanted to tell her so badly, but they were in Study Hall. Do you see what they're truly like—

"Dex?" A voice called out, and he nearly jolted as he realized that Fitz was talking to him. Ugh.

"What?" he asked, the acid in his voice so strong even Fitz flinched as if he’d been burned.

"You need to be with her."

"You two are the ones who caused this mess—"

"She won't talk to us. She needs you."

Dex almost started screaming at him for cutting him off, but the words made him freeze. He paused, took a deep breath. "Am I supposed to put in a good word for you? Newsflash, Wonderboy, I'm not doing that."

Fitz sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Just be there. I don't-- I don't want her to be alone."

And that got Dex standing up, immediately grabbing his stuff. Damn it, leave it to Wonderboy to get him to realize that Sophie's comfort meant more than his own petty sense of righteousness.

When he made it to the cave at Havenfield, something felt off. He took a few tentative steps forward. Another few steps, and a voice that sounded like Sophie's rang out in his head, telling him to run. Before he could even think, someone grabbed him from behind, shoving a cloth over his mouth.

No, he thought. Sophie. He fought against his captor and...

•~•~•~•~•~•

He woke up, restrained. Everything was dark and he could barely breathe and it was burning it was burning—

In the off moments where he was awake and not burning until he fell unconscious again, he would barely be able to muster worried thoughts. His parents, how were they doing? The triplets.

Sophie. Sophie, who must be somewhere close and was also in the same situation and she was being tortured too. His heart. The one he normally held wasn't with him since he kept it at his house when he attended Foxfire, but what about the elf who held his heart? Did the elf care?

He fought against his restraints, managed to break free of them.

He'd barely made it two steps before a voice said, "One more step, and the girl dies."

"We should just kill him anyway," another voice said. "He's useless to us. A hindrance."

Dex sank back onto the chair, feeling absolutely useless for not being able to do anything.

•~•~•~•~•~•

When he woke up, he was in some unfamiliar area with Sophie, no kidnappers in sight. Turned out that they were in the Forbidden Cities. But that was fine, they were safe. Well, for now. Apparently there were a lot of secrets that Sophie had kept hidden from everyone. A telepath.

He'd also at some point manifested as a technopath. Huh. He was relieved that he had an ability, but ugh, did it have to be technopathy? It wasn't nearly as cool as telepathy.

The kidnappers had come again, one of them wielding a fucking melder, and as he was shot by it once, twice, and he was incapacitated on the floor, he could vaguely see Sophie trembling in rage as they all fell over. He couldn’t move, talk, or even see, but he knew when Sophie had picked him up to leap despite them being too injured and—

•~•~•~•~•~•

When Dex woke up again, he was laying in a bed. He had half a mind to just sink into the soft comfort of the bed, but as he woke up, all his senses awakened: the burns on his skin, the sting from the melder.

"Sophie," he gasped.

"Hey, relax," a voice said, and Dex opened his eyes to see Keefe staring at him. "You can't get out of bed yet."

"But Sophie--"

"Foster's alive," Keefe said, "she's alive, and Elwin's going to see her before he comes to see you."

Dex tried to pull himself into a sitting position, but it hurt too much, and Keefe had to help him out. "Is she okay?"

Dex watched as Keefe paused. His eyes closed, as he took a deep breath. He turned away, then back at him, and Dex had a feeling that he wasn't going to like what his answer was going to be. As if delaying to increase the weight of impact, turning to the desk next to him and picking up a heart.

"This is the heart I hold, it belongs to Foster," Keefe said. "I realized it when... well. You'll see."

Dex sucked in a breath. The heart, brown and gold and red looked so frail in his hands, just barely beating. The entire left side was nearly transparent, from ventricle all the way up to the aorta. He could actually see the red flow of blood, slow but not steady.

"The light leap," he realized. He remembered being carried, remembered being leaped. All of him was intact, not a single cell faded away, and he wasn't conscious enough to provide his own concentration to leap them. Sophie she-- she put everything into him.

"Foster's alive," Keefe repeated, "and Elwin's going to see her."

Dex stared at the heart that Keefe had, desperately hoping that she'd be okay. Looked at every heartbeat, to see if each pulse would become slower paced. So when the heart was still faded and Elwin had walked into this room, he was worried.

"Sophie's sedated, and I can't lie and say that she's okay right now," he explained before Dex could start rapid-fire asking questions, "but I can't do much else for now without waiting to see if what I've done for now will let her heal. So for now, I'll work with you."

Dex had been to Elwin once or twice for minor incidents at Foxfire for his elementalism class, and while getting healed wasn't bad, it wasn't really something he liked per se. However, there was no trace of discomfort as he could only focus on Sophie. His eyes couldn't leave the half-faded heart.

Elwin's gaze followed his own. "That's... a weird heart. Sophie's, I'm guessing?"

Dex nodded.

"That's probably good to keep close, given Sophie's already high attendance at the Healing Centre."

Elwin had said it as a joke, but neither him, Dex, nor Keefe felt like laughing.

"Are you going to tell her about the heart?" Dex asked.

Keefe paused, surprisingly hesitant considering what he knew of him. "You two are close, have you seen the heart she has yet? Would you say it reflects me well?"

"Sophie doesn't have one with her," Dex said. "She's got no memory of ever seeing a heart like that."

Though, now knowing what he knew, Dex guessed that the Black Swan probably had her heart? Since no human would be so accepting of a living, beating heart.

Keefe blinked. "Oh. Then... I guess I won't tell her yet. Don't tell anyone else either? At least-- not until she gets her own." He looked back up at Elwin, and Dex had forgotten that he was even there. Elwin nodded.

After the worst of Dex's injuries were healed, Keefe and Elwin left to go see Sophie, while he was ordered to rest for a bit. He knew that sleep wouldn't come easy, but the stress of everything had kicked in and eventually he was knocked out. At some point, the door had opened, quiet but enough to rouse him into consciousness. He was too tired to open his eyes. Footsteps approached the bed, close, stopping a few steps away. There was the sound of a heart beating, maybe. He could feel his own heart in his chest beating in time to the sound.

"It’s you..." A whisper sounded out. Quiet, low, familiar.

He wanted to open his eyes and see who was there, to see if it was who he thought it was (not that it made any sense at all for him to be here), but it was nice and warm in bed, his heart feeling warmer than ever as he drifted back to sleep.

•~•~•~•~•~•

"Dex!" Bex called, running up to him and hugging him. His two brothers joined the call, all of them shoving to hold him close. Dex wrapped his arms around them.

His parents stood slightly off to the side, their skin paler than he remembered. Both of their hair was messy, and he could see as they clung to each other's hands.

"Don't leave us ever again," Rex cried, smearing his tears on his shirt. Neither of the other two triplets made fun of him for crying as they both fought back their own tears.

Dex could only nod, his throat too choked up to speak. He could only hope that would be true.

•~•~•~•~•~•

Weeks passed, and slowly, Sophie recovered from having almost fading away. He'd spent his fair share of the time alternating between hanging near Keefe to stare at Sophie's heart, and taking care of the heart that he had.

His own heart... during the kidnapping, what had it looked like? Did it mirror his state too? Had there been burns all over it? He could vaguely picture someone cradling it, oh so confused as to what was going on. Did they panic? He supposed that no one had been able to connect the timing of it all back to his disappearance, given that nobody came in rushing to tell him.

Then again, who would have wanted to admit that they held Dex Dizznee's heart?

•~•~•~•~•~•

For the next few weeks, everything went back to normal. Sort of. He visited Sophie to help her with the animals at Havenfield, helped his dad at the store, sat in his room and tinkered with gadgets—this time using his ability.

He'd tried working on a variety of inventions, his major priority having been a device that would somewhat replicate telepathy.

He also had a side project, he wondered if it was possible to be able to know the heartbeats when he was not with the heart.

His parents were concerned, rightfully, but they were getting way too on his case. Between them and looking after his siblings, he felt suffocated.

But other than that, things were back to normal-ish (if he ignored the nightmares and the constant dread he felt).

...until Sophie found an alicorn, then suddenly she had a whole bunch of secrets she couldn't tell him, and she was so busy that he could barely even see her. Both Fitz and Biana weren't coming to Foxfire.

The heart he had, it was doing something weird, and it had him panicking. It was slightly swollen, the arteries and veins bulging a faint red, not unlike the way the veins in his hands would when he clenched his fists trying to hold back his anger at the triplets for breaking yet another thing of his. But that kind of anger was situational, just a brief moment. Maybe at worst, lasting a day, if he was having a really bad day.

The heart represented an elf's physical and mental state. He didn't know much about how hearts worked physically, but Dex had the feeling that the problem with the other elf wasn't physical. Obviously though, everyone would go through a variety of feelings, and not every feeling could be reflected from moment to moment.

So the problem was clearly mental, and it was clearly huge. The weird bulging persisted for one, two, three, more days.

"So, just the three of us?" Marella asked during lunch. "Again?"

Sophie and Keefe had ended up in detention, so the group at the lunch table was the smallest it'd been in a while.

"Something's clearly up," Dex said.

Marella rolled her eyes. "Obviously. The Vackers not being here is proof of that."

The group fell into an awkward silence, and not even Jensi's generally uplifting demeanor could ease it.

"The heart I have has been acting weird," Dex said suddenly.

Matters of the heart were generally kept private, but he didn't want to keep it to himself, and he didn't really want to tell his parents yet, even though they'd probably have some kind of solution.

"Weird how?" Jensi asked.

"It's getting all bulge-y, it's kinda gross."

"Mine's been paler than normal lately," Marella said. "Not quite shrinking in on itself, but curling weirdly. It almost feels like it wants to hide away. Been like that for a few days now."

Nobody said anything else after that, and they went back to eating their lunches in silence.

•~•~•~•~•~•

The whole elf heart scare had him working harder on his invention. He couldn't keep the heart on him at all times, it was too fragile to do so. But he needed to know. Needed to know if the heart would burst.

When it was revealed that Alden's mind had broken, when his wanderling had been planted and he'd learned that Fitz was blaming Sophie, he almost thought that it'd be another thing for Dex to hate Fitz for.

He thought back to the heart, ready to burst, and Fitz's explosive anger. This much... this much he didn't think he could hate Fitz for, even if he was being an ass. He thought of his parents trying to keep him in his house, the triplets telling him what they'd been like while he'd been proclaimed dead.

Fitz's own manifestation was a stranger to him in the sense that Dex had never been in that state before, but understandable nonetheless. If he didn't dislike Fitz, if they'd became friends, maybe Dex would comfort him.

But Dex did dislike him, and they weren't friends, and so Dex turned all his attention towards the heart. It was the only thing he could really do, while Sophie had her own things to do and Keefe was helping her.

Nothing he did seemed to work, but whether the other elf had gotten over it or if circumstances had changed, the swelling had eventually gone down and the heart looked normal again. The beats were slightly unsteady, but the heart didn't look like it was ready to burst.

(He tried to not think about the timing of it all.)

•~•~•~•~•~•

Someone decided to be a snitch and tell Dame Alina that he'd manifested as a technopath. Ugh. He blew up on Sophie a bit, and then learned from Dame Alina that the Council had told her.

The Council.

The Council? They cared about his ability? Enough to have his mentor be Lady Iskra? The most famous technology who invented like... everything cool. Sure, his ability wouldn't do much, but he got to work with Lady Iskra.

•~•~•~•~•~•

He finished the heart monitor, and then began to work on a panic switch for Sophie, because the kidnappers would come again. He knew it. He made them both into rings, and he gave Sophie the panic switch ring. And yeah, he knew that a ring wasn't the greatest, but it was the best option he had.

He could see it on her face though, that she wanted nothing to do with it. Half of Foxfire were talking about their matching rings, but that wasn't the point. The point was that Sophie needed other ways to be able to reach out. Not just to Fitz via telepathy, but also to him.

Because he was important too. She was his best friend. He was her best friend, as she'd called him. But lately, he didn't feel like that was the case.

•~•~•~•~•~•

His next invention was an ability enhancer. Sophie was going to heal Fintan, which was definitely going to be dangerous, and she needed to be able to have every card in her favour. An Ancient's mind wouldn't be easy to penetrate.

But when he told her about his invention, she didn't want it. She didn't seem to trust him. But she trusted Fitz, enough to let him past her blocking apparently. Because they had a "connection."

What about her connection with him? Did they not matter?

"Seriously?" Fitz asked, staring at the circlet. He couldn't for the life of him tell if that was curiosity or disgust, but when Keefe grabbed it out of his hands, he forgot all about that.

Dame Alina told him to put it away and for them to all be quiet, and he was hurt that Sophie didn't even consider using it.

I think... A voice said in his head, and he jolted when he realized it was Wonderboy. I think it's cool, but it's too risky.

Seriously?

This entire task is risky, he thought, carefully trying to not think of anything too awful.

I know. But that's exactly why we can't use it yet.

Was that Fitz's way of comforting him, or what?

We can't rely on technology to replace telepathy in this situation.

Wonderboy, get out of my head, he thought bitterly, turning his gaze down to his notebook as reread all his notes on the circlet.

...surprisingly, Fitz left without another word.

What was even the point of that? He didn't understand, he would never understand. What would someone as privileged as him know what Dex was feeling, to be able to even attempt comforting him?

•~•~•~•~•~•

As the healing proceeded and Dex was just stuck at home, he couldn't just sit and rest. His siblings were running around screaming as though everything were normal, but everything was not normal.

He alternated between holding the heart, fidgeting with the ability enhancer and looking at his panic switch. When the heart started beating fast, somehow Dex knew that something was wrong. And even though he knew he wasn't capable of helping at all, he rushed out to see his parents—

—only to find his dad just as distressed as he was.

"Dad, what's wrong?" He asked, trying to swallow his panic.

Kesler only said one word, but that was enough: "Everblaze."

He started rushing out, grabbing all his alchemy supplies and Dex followed after him.

"No," Kesler grabbed his shoulders, and Dex froze. "You can't come."

No no no absolutely not. "You'll need every alchemist."

"I said you can't come, Dex. And that's final."

They're in danger, he wanted to say, and he had no idea if he was talking about Sophie and the others, or the elf whose heart he held.

When Kesler left, Dex didn't even take off his shoes. He kept staring at his ring, wondering if Sophie would call for him.

...of course, she didn't.

The next few hours passed by in a blur, even though he was just holed up in his room. He kept himself busy, and was surprised when his dad came back, Councilor Terik accompanying him. What was a Councilor doing in his house--his room? It was even weirder when Kesler nodded at him and left the two of them alone.

"Dex Dizznee, the technopath. I see you've got quite the workstation here."

Dex bowed, flushing at his words. Was that supposed to be a compliment? An insult?

"Dame Alina mentioned that you were working on an ability enhancer?"

"Y–yeah. I am. It's untested, and—"

"Can I test it?"

"Um," Dex said, not knowing how to reply to that. "I designed it with telepathy in mind specifically, so it wouldn't work on you."

"I see. I think your inventions have great potential, Mister Dizznee."

"Really?" Dex asked, beaming. A Councilor thought he showed potential? "You think it'll work?"

Councilor Terik smiled at him, a thin, wan smile. "Maybe not an enhancer. But... an ability restrictor, possibly."

Dex could tell what he was talking about. If Fintan didn't have his pyrokinesis, he wouldn't have set Everblaze.

"But that's not what I wanted to ask you about. The Council would like your help in the creation of weapons."

He mouthed the word, hating how it felt on his tongue. Weapons. Elves didn't usually use weapons.

...but Dex had a weapon used on him, and he could still remember the shock of the melder—

"I'll do it," he said.

His own inventions, needed by the Council. To think the Council would want help from a Dizznee. If only Stina could hear this, see that Councilor asked for his help specifically, had thought he displayed potential in his talents. No one would talk bad about him or his family again.

"I'll get back to you on what kind of weapons that we will want soon. I'll also be bringing up the restrictor with the others, so it may be possible that we'll ask you to create one."

Dex nodded, and Councilor Terik left.

•~•~•~•~•~•

No. No no no, it couldn't be like this. They'd told him that the restrictor would be used on people who needed their abilities taken away, and Dex had imagined those black-cloaked figures, those murderers.

He didn't think it'd be used on Sophie.

He watched as she convulsed in pain, falling to the floor, curling up. A few cries had escaped her, and nothing could be more haunting than that.

Apologies spilled from his lips, and when Sophie looked at him, she looked so broken.

"I'm not having anything more to do with this," he said to the Council, "I'm not helping you with that."

"And need I remind you that disobeying a direct order from the Council is an exile-able offense?" Councilor Emery asked.

He didn't care if he went to Exile. Not if it meant this.

"It's okay, Dex," Sophie said, "Just do what they're saying."

"How can you say that?" He asked, his voice cracking.

How could she bear that pain? Bear her abilities being taken away, becoming Talentless, and knowing it was due to the hands of someone who proclaimed to consider her his best friend? How could he live like this? It was a betrayal. And he couldn't do anything, he couldn't fix it, because they threatened to exile his family.

He thought... he truly thought he was helping. Making a difference. Being useful.

But never in his life did he feel more useless than he did now.

•~•~•~•~•~•

Sophie drank slumberry tea. A sedative. Something he knew she refused to use. He visited Sophie, apologizing uselessly, and he came across the others--her friends. They were Sophie's friends, not his.

Unsurprisingly, none of them were able to meet his eye. None of them jumped him, beat him or anything like that, and he supposed that was the best he could ask for. For a moment, he thought he'd felt Fitz's gaze on him, and he wondered if Fitz was going to transmit in his brain again like he did earlier. When he looked at Fitz, he turned away, and his mind remained silent.

...he wasn't sure why that hurt, considering he didn't like Fitz, and Fitz sure as hell wouldn't like him. It's not like anything he could have said would make things better.

(But anything, anything, would feel better than the ashamed glances directed at him.)

•~•~•~•~•~•

He had Sophie promise to use her panic switch if she needed anything, but he didn't think she'd use it so soon. She wasn't at Havenfield. He leaped there as soon as he could, and saw Everblaze burning.

A pyrokinetic, holding a ball of fire ready to be thrown at Sophie and Grady. Dex didn't think, he ran and tackled the elf. It bought Sophie a few seconds, but the elf had grabbed him by the throat, his voice that had haunted his nightmares. Fingertips searing his skin just like his memories.

With the help of another invention he made, he was able to send Brant--he was pretty sure he was Brant, based on the little he'd heard--reeling, and they restrained him. He was ready to make sure Brant was captured, but Brant knew about the Black Swan's ambush.

He didn't hesitate to take off that circlet from her head, throwing it into the Everblaze. The Council could exile him, that's fine with him. But he refused to let anything happen to his friends.

•~•~•~•~•~•

After everything, the Council would be after them. Sophie was planning to run away to the Black Swan, and he knew that he wouldn't let her go without him. They left for there, Keefe, Fitz, Biana too. It was weird, being roommates with Fitz and Keefe. He hadn't exactly been friends with them--eating lunch together at Foxfire had always been more about their mutual friendship with Sophie.

The riddles unfortunately did not stop, but at least they were assigned a mission. Of course, that didn't stop them from doing their own snooping.

•~•~•~•~•~•

"Did Mr. Forkle ever give you your heart?" Dex asked Sophie.

"I did try asking once," Sophie replied. Her face scrunched in annoyance. "He said it'd be a distraction. I mean, come on, I get to be the freaky brown-eyed elf with lots of abilities, and they think I can't take care of a heart? I feel bad for whoever's heart that is, I'm sure the Black Swan's too busy to notice every detail."

"I'd feel bad for them too," Dex said, trying not to think about how Keefe's mom was a part of the Neverseen. That heart would definitely need a lot of comfort.

"Are you two talking about hearts?" Fitz asked, walking into the room, holding a heart in his hand.

Huh. He never thought he'd actually see Wonderboy holding one. It was on the smaller end, blue and rusty copper and bits of green.

"Oh, that's cool, can I touch it?" Sophie asked.

Fitz's eyes flitted to him for a moment, then nodded.

"Is it hard to find out whose heart belongs to who?"

"Depends," Dex shrugged. "If the elves are already close with each other, then they're more likely to figure it out."

"It's not a documented system like Matchmaking is, so there are plenty of elves near ancient who probably have no idea who their heart belongs to," Fitz added.

"So I'm guessing it'd be stupid to ask if you knew who your heart belonged to?" Sophie asked.

Surprisingly, Fitz tensed. Both him and Sophie started staring into each other's eyes. Probably having a telepathic conversation. Gross. He waited a minute before he pretended to gag, and the two jolted.

"You should... tell them," Sophie said quietly.

"I know," Fitz replied, his voice just as soft, "but they won't be ready to hear it. I don't want them to feel obligated."

Ew, they were still ignoring that he was there. And what was that about what Fitz said? Feel obligated? People would give the world to be able to brag about holding Fitz's heart, even if it wasn't romantic. But like everyone had a crush on him anyway, so how on earth would it be an obligation?

He was surprisingly loyal, got angry and spiteful like everyone else, that golden image just a coverup. Not as perfect as what they all thought him to be, but he was a good friend. He was willing to run away from his perfect life and perfect family, to side with Sophie. To do everything in his power to help his world.

And that, Dex could respect.

•~•~•~•~•~•

Dex had spent days practicing working on the lock from Exile so that they could rescue Prentice. He was a little worried when Sophie's directions were apparently taking them to the surface. Even more so when the lock was changed, and they couldn't even access the inside of the cell.

The Council even showed up, trapping them. Things were escalating, and Mr. Forkle was ready to turn himself in. But not if Dex could help it. He'd brought several different small cubes with him, in case anything happened. The first filled the room with burning green mist, the second squawked and served as further distraction.

The third was zapped by Councilor Zarina, and--

It was going to explode.

"Everybody get down!" He screamed, but the room was too loud and no one could hear him.

No one but Fitz, who grabbed it and flung it away from them all. But not in time for the explosion to send him flying, landing right on the sharp horn of an arthropleura.

He was running before Sophie could even scream stop, was already kneeling at his side. Dex reached for his chest to stop the bleeding, only to see that one of his hands had already been stained with blood without having even touched him yet. It dripped down his palm, originating from one of his rings.

No.

He hadn't known his ring could do such a thing, but he knew what it meant.

Fitz got sent flying because of his own gadget. And he wasn't stupid to not realize why his ring that monitored the heart would suddenly start streaming blood staining his hands. He hated that he couldn't tell which of the blood came from Fitz, and which came from the monitor of his heart as it all mixed together. He just knew he had to fix this. He had to, because he couldn't let Fitz die like this. The blood was thickening from the venom, and it didn't look good.

Dex took his chance and leapt out of Exile with Fitz, where an elf with a sparkly mask was waiting.

"You're back quicker than I thought, where—oh." She froze when she saw Fitz in his arms, and they both carried him to the medical room. "Are the others still there?"

He nodded. "He needs a physician, can you get them?"

The other elf was hunting through cabinets, pulling out several vials and bottles and salves. "Physic, resident physician. I'll take care of him from here. It'll be really messy."

He opened his mouth to protect that nothing that he could see could be messier, she repeated that he should go, and she'd give updates.

He reluctantly agreed, and went to wash his hands dry of the blood. But the ring was still bleeding, and when he picked up the heart, it wasn't in great condition either. The gold lines were black with venom, and it had left a bloody mess on the nightstand. He grabbed a basic first aid kit and a bunch of towels and sat on the floor by the fireplace, carefully tending to the wounds on the heart. He hoped that bandaging the heart would help slow down the bleeding in Fitz's body. If nothing else, he could do this much.

Now that he looked back at the heart, wasn't it obvious that it belonged to Fitz? Teal like his eyes--something which had long bothered him, but he'd grown used to, gold like his image he always portrayed.

Fitz's heart, huh. That's whose heart he held.

When the others arrived back, they all stared at the bloody heart in his hands, but they said nothing. He didn't say anything either, taking comfort in every beat, because every heartbeat was proof that Fitz was still living.

Mr. Forkle told them that Fitz had stabilized, and they all rushed to his room. And oh. He looked even worse than Dex had thought. Black spiderwebs painted his chest. It looked even worse than it had on his heart earlier. Maybe his heart would've reflected it too, if it weren't currently bandaged.

"Oh, you have his heart?" Physic asked, turning to Dex. "That'll make his recovery from near death go smoother. You should've told me earlier."

"I only just found out," he mumbled, reluctantly handing her Fitz's heart.

"Good thinking for bandaging it. I had thought that the bleeding had gone down easier than expected."

She went back to treating Fitz, and it was messy and the vomit was disgusting, but he couldn't bring himself to leave. He had to stay. Once Physic was no longer needed in the room, he decided that he and Fitz should probably talk.

Fitz looked at him, and Dex didn't know if he wanted to meet his gaze or look away. He settled for looking at his neck.

"How long did you know?" he asked after a few seconds.

"Know what?"

"Don't play dumb." He picked Fitz's heart off the table from when Physic left it there. "This."

"A while... your kidnapping."

Dex tensed. Since then? He knew since then? Though, with the burns, maybe it wasn't hard to figure out.

"And you never told me?"

"Would you have wanted to hear it?"

He let out a breath. It wouldn't. He would've hated it. He would've hated the irony that the elf he'd hated most held his heart.

His silence must have been enough of an answer, as Fitz didn't say anything else.

"I'm sorry," Dex said, trying to keep his voice from cracking. The heart in his hand both comforted him and pissed him off at the same time. "I almost got you killed."

"You were trying to get us out of there," Fitz said, smiling weakly at him, "and we made it out. You don't have to blame yourself for this, you wouldn't predict Councilor Zarina's electricity."

"Not just that. I'm sorry for hating you so much. I'll try to hate you less."

Fitz blinked. "Why do you hate me?"

He almost wanted to roll his eyes, it felt like such a stupid question. But it wasn't like he had a good reason to hate Fitz at this point either.

"You're everything I'm not. I hated it."

Those few words couldn't represent the waves of emotions that had flooded him for years, but he didn't know how to say it.

"I..." He said, knowing he was going to sound stupid for saying it, "I wanted you to notice me."

The heart in his hands skipped a beat.

"Do you-- do you want to try being friends?"

Friends. With Fitz Vacker. If the Dex from a few years ago heard that, he would've laughed.

"I'll try," he mumbled. "I don't promise anything more. If nothing else, your heart is in my hands."

Fitz's weak smile turned bright, blinding him. Dex turned away, not knowing how to react to that. He wasn't sure how to react to the twitch of Fitz's arms either, as if he wanted to ask for a hug.

"Rest well, Wonderboy," he whispered, as he rushed out of the room.

Thump. Thump-thump.

Fitz's heart beat steadily in his hands, and Dex thought that his reluctant words would probably end up a reality.

•~•~•~•~•~•

Kotlc taglist: @my-swan-song, @stellarune, @impostertamsong, @subrosasteath

Want to be added/removed from the kotlc taglist? Just let me know!

#the way i wanted more fedex interactions only to realize they like never talked books 1-4 and that so much happened in 2-3 that they couldnt #can you believe i reread books 1-4 ish i havent touched those books in like 5 years #dex dizznee #fitz vacker #fedex #kotlc #keeper of the lost cities #kotlc fanfic #ravi writes a thing #DO feel free to ask me about other heart pairs or dynamics in general. while centered on fedex i have a decent idea of who some hearts #belong to with other characters

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fktonofwhatnow · 1 year

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Is anyone else absolutely terrified of how SJM is going to write Elain's book because I AM

I think it's time I finally actually try to put a cohesive post together about the world building of this series because uhhhhh it's BAD.

Ok so, pretty generic epic dark fantasy setting right? Pinnacle of Pinterest fantasy boards with high contrast-low exposure pictures of fancy dresses and knives and men's abs and vague enough cultural references that it's not enough to be appropriation but you know it's ethnic and stolen images of people's dragon age elf OCs--

Anyways, this all ties into Elain, and her powers and stuff. Bc if your world is build just on the aesthetic, your magic system will suffer. It would be okay to not have a thought out magic system, and there are ways to have a vague magic system (e.g, The Chronicles of Narnia, LoTR, stuff like that) that work, but uh... Not if you give every single one of your characters epic magical powers. It... Kinda has to make sense in order for the story to make sense, you can't just pull this shit out of your ass, hate to break it to you. If your magic doesn't have rules, then your world doesn't have rules, and then your story doesn't have rules. And then why do we even care about the conflict, can't the characters just idk, blast their enemies into oblivion, since they can do whatever they want? You see what I'm saying?

Like ok, Nesta's power already makes no sense. I thought Feyre was the most powerful ever but now Nesta is the most powerful ever and I'm concerned to see how Elain is gonna top that.

And the thing about that IS: Elain is gonna have to be the most powerful in her own book right

It's actually an issue I've noticed in a lot of people who make characters: their characters always have to be the best and the strongest. I used to rp with a few friends, and I stopped doing so bc their characters always had to be better than mine, regardless of how good I established my own characters were, or how good my canon muses canonically were. My friends wouldn't let my characters be better than them. (They also always blamed my characters for every misunderstanding like conflict doesn't drive plot and my characters didn't also have thoughts and feelings of their own cough couGH sound familiar Mrs Maas)

In the entirety of ASOSF, I was out here BAFFLED by the amount of time SJM spent trying to prove that Nesta was the new strongest and best ever, while also trying to make sure that we knew that Feyre and Rhysand (mostly Rhysand bc Feyre was preggers uwu) were the still the strongest and best ever, and at some point I was like "why do these people still have problems" bc Briallyn was a plot point for like half a chapter before they straight up kicked her ass and then the next biggest problem was Feyre not being able to have a baby...? I though y'all were the strongest and best ever, can't y'all just reset the entire universe if it suits your fancy JJBA style at this point?

Ok so back to Elain....

Yeah so like, my question is: How is Elain's super vague and cryptic and horribly written poetic "Seer" power gonna top all this? (watch her be the one who can open fuckin portals n stuff just watch)

I would absolutely love it if Elain's book is just a slow(er) paced love(ish) story and it's soft and gentle and we don't need to demolish kingdoms and create portals into the multiverse and find random vague magical items with little to no sound worldbuilding behind them besides a keysmash of a name and another ancient war

It would be so cool if Elain gets to be the one doing the rebuilding, maybe she goes to help the Summer Court out, or maybe even the Spring Court! Maybe she meets sweet new friends and forms long lasting and meaningful relationships! My girl needs to feel needed, and she needs to help those in need.

But watch them have to find even more weird artifacts and stuff that only Elain can control or whatever and there's some new random enemy with no sound worldbuilding behind them either bc SJM Couldn't pull a character plot twist to save her damn life like god FORBID Eris actually have ulterior motives and be like evil or whatever nah we have to hear all about this random new guy who is terrorizing the Night Court now and then there's an ABSOLUTELY ATROCIOUS love triangle/square with Lucien in there bc I guess he really hasn't suffered enough yet and also Gwyn even though she's new BUT Azriel looked at her like twice so its fair game I guess-

Or maybe the whole book will just be about Azriel and how he's into a bunch of kinky shit idk I bet it will be tho-

#elain archeron #azriel acotar #anti sjm #anti sjms awful character writing #lucien vanserra #gwyn berdara #pro elain

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littlemisssquiggles · 2 years

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…So…about The Dragon Prince Season 4: Mysteries of Aaravos…

So I just wrapped up the season and just wanted to give my overall thoughts on it.

The General Gist:

As I told a fellow TDP fan friend of mine, as a whole, I thought this season was a good start to this new chapter of the series.

Despite being a direct continuation from the last season of the Dragon Prince, I feel like it would be more fitting of me to just view Mysteries of Aaravos as its own separate story; within the Dragon Prince universe and following up from where the previous story left off but still being unique and different enough to be perceived as its own think.

In all honesty, I found this fourth season to be more comparable to the very first season of the Dragon Prince. Like I said, it’s a solid good start; providing the audience with just enough storytelling and worldbuilding to get us invested in the characters who will be become the key players in this new chapter of the story as well as the new overarching plot.

So on that front, I liked S4. However, if I were to compare S4 to the last book---Book 3, this is where my opinion will change. As I’ll reiterate, S4 was good BUT, was it better for me than S3? In my opinion, no.

Not by a long shot. S3 left me fat and fed in terms of being completely satisfied with the way things were left off in terms of story and character development. S4 felt more like a refresher. Getting this squiggle meister right back into the world of Xadia and what made the series so great for me before while getting me prepared and hyped for what’s to come next. There is no doubt in my mind that I am more than excited to see what comes next for the next few chapter of MoA and in true TDP fashion, I can only expect the story to get better from here since that was my experience with the first installment.

Book 1 of the TDP hooked me in and each book after that from 2 to 3 just kept further improving upon the story and of course, the characters.

Thus I’m expecting MoA to be no different. I don’t know when the next book of MoA is expected to be released, but based on how MoA left things off for its first book, I am only expecting things to get wilder and on that note, I cannot wait for what’s in store to come.

---

The Rayllum Elephant in the Room:

If you were a Rayllum shipper this season like me then…how you doing, fam? You good? Because I don’t know about ya’ll but being a Rayllum shipper in Book 4 was painful. Watching these two kids clunkily try to salvage their broken off-screen, in-book relationship without the full context (since I sadly didn’t get to read the actual book that explains Rayla’s departure) was painful.

I mean, we did get some ok-ish moments---some semblance of crumbs. But coming off the cusp of Book 3, watching Rayllum this season was damn disappointing!

How? How did we go from being FAT and FED in Book 3 of the Dragon Prince to being STARVED in Book 4? Seriously how!!!???

Why did the showrunners think this was a good move? Why did they break them up? Why couldn’t they have just kept them together and let the next chapter of their relationship be watching them be a couple---one of the first human and elf couples outside of Janai and Amaya and seeing how they make it work despite it all?

Why couldn’t we just watch that instead of the typical “let’s make them get together only to have them randomly break up only to watch them get back together in the end”?

Seriously, if I wanted to watch a season where Rayla and Callum begin to build their relationship, I would rewatch Season 1 of the Dragon Prince and even then, I wouldn’t be this annoyed.

I swear if they insert a love triangle or love square between Rayllum in the next book, I’ll be beyond pissed.

I’m sorry guys, I just…I just didn’t enjoy the story for my favourite ship for this season. Why not all of it was as terrible as I’m making it sound, it just wasn’t enjoyable for me because overall, I was just mad the entire time that they were broken up at all, y’know what I mean?

At least one thing’s for certain though; it’s still very clear that Rayla and Callum both still love each other very much. The feelings are still very much there. Where the story takes them on the path to repairing what they once had and maybe falling in love with each other again---I don’t know.

I just hope it’s good and better than S3 because that season is still the reigning king in terms of getting that good-good Rayllum bread. Just so long as it’s not another bait and switch. I know couples getting together and breaking up is a fact of life, however it’s not the only path relationships can take that’s considered realistic. Believe it or not, there are relationships where people remain together for a very long time with the love and trust between them still maintained; perhaps even stronger than it was at the beginning thanks to the experience and challenges of time.

Perhaps I’m getting way over my head about this and maybe, this is what the showrunners have planned for Rayllum. Who knows? Doesn’t excuse the fact that I’m just really tired of the whole “will they, won’t they” trope being done to death, particularly when it comes to animated couples.

I used to get a kick out of it before back in my days of indulging in lots of shoujo manga and the occassional anime or two. And in many ways, I don’t completely dislike the trope. It’s just that, for once I’d like to see a pairing in an animation get together and despite the story throwing many curve balls at them, rather than the writers have them break up, they just write the couple to talk things through and work things out and keep trying to make things work for the sake of their relationship since ultimately, they do love each other and genuinely do want their relationship to last.

This was one of the things I actually found very refreshing about the Lumity pairing from The Owl House series. Despite getting together early on in the show’s second season, I really liked how this never stopped the couple from growing both together and as individuals. And inspite of some showcomings and mistakes made between them, I liked how rather than have the young couple have a big argument leading them to breaking up prematurely only to get back together later---y’know the usual rinse and repeat we’d come to expect---the TOH showrunners just have the two girls work things out and make it work.

It’s so nice to see a couple in an animated series with challenges but not any “relationship drama”, y’know what I mean?

That being said, I still love my favourite Rayllum pair and I am looking forward for what’s next to come for them. I’m just gonna need a while to get over my initial annoyance at their break-up. At least we got a hug in the final episode. Sure it led to a very adorable group hug between the Dra--gang (I really love Soren---the little easter eggs from Avatar: The Last Airbender said by him this season were golden). But hey…it’s a crumb---one of the many we had to painstakingly scrape the literal Umber Tor-sized bottom of the barrel to get this season---but yeah, still a crumb so I’ll take what I can get until Book 5 gives me something better…hopefully.

---

Terry, Terry, Quite Contrary:

I’m just gonna be blunt---I love Terry. Easily became my favourite character for this season next to Soren.

He’s just so precious. I’ve joked so much about hot elven dads over the past few seasons that for the first time in Dragon Prince history, we finally have an adorable cinnamon bun of an elven son for me to adopt.

Seriously, Terry is too pure. Too good---mostly. Best 4/5 for me because the parts of him that’s perfectly find with Claudia draining the life from magical creatures to be used in dark magic as an Earthblood elf is still very questionable to me.

Then again, after meeting some of the Earthblood elves from the Drakewood where Terry claimed he was from and seeing their barbaric treatment of the local dragon life, I guess it makes a bit more sense now.

But bottomline, Terry is pure of heart and I quite like him as a character. He certainly won my adoration this book. All the more reason why I’m very, very, VERY concerned for his fate moving forward.

I feel like it's going to be like the shoulder angel and devil scenario with Claudia regarding her relationship/loyalty to both her father and Terry as her boyfriend. And the reason for my concern with this dynamic is because I feel like it could potentially lead to another moment of Claudia being forced to chose between two people she loves.

We know from S2 of TDP that Claudia hates being put in this type of predicament. She was forced to do this with her parents as a child, with her father and her older brother in Book 3 and it wouldn't surprise me if it'll happen again down the line, this time with Terry wrapped up in it.

Both times when Claudia was forced to choose, she chose her father each time. Keeping that thought in mind, I'm curious to see whether or not Terry will finally be the one to break the cycle for Claudia.

You can clearly see that Terry is very important to Claudia. Outside of the general wholesome and playfulness of their romance, there is also some genuine trust and respect between Claudia and Terry. It is clear that Claudia values Terry’s opinions, especially the ones of her. Just look at how she immediately changed her stance on tricking Rayla with the coins containing the captured remnants of their family (which by the way, thank you for finally addressing show). Look how quickly Claudia reconsidered her actions and changed after Terry commented on the cruelty of it towards Rayla.

I really liked that moment from the final episode because it said so much about both Terry and Claudia as characters.

And while a part of me likes Terry enough as a character to want him to get as far away from the toxic father-daughter circle as Soren did because I'm worried for his fate, on the flipside, I do wish for Terry to also stick around because, as cheesy as this sounds, I do think Terry is Claudia's soul mate. Her better half because not only does he understand her in ways that not even her close family does but overall, Terry is good for Claudia.

He seems to be a genuinely good person with a good heart and head on his shoulders (most of the time). And for the most part, he’s the one member in the toxic circle who still has some shred of humanity and empathy

Viren is practically long gone at this point. The only person he seems to actually care about now is Claudia. Man doesn’t even acknowledge Soren anymore. Even when he was expressing the probability of abandoning the search for Aaravos and living out his final days before Claudia prompty smacked some “sense” back into him, he still only mentioned her.

Real father of the year material, aren’t you Viren? Soren was right for cutting ties with your toxic ass!

Claudia, on the other hand, is literally half and half. She’s just tethering the edge between returning fully to the side of good or falling into full damnation alongside her father.

I wish to believe that through Terry's love and overall influence, Claudia can potentially switch sides---basically have her own little Prince Zuko type of character journey. But much like with Zuko, I think it's going to take some kind of extreme moment such as Claudia saving her father but at the expense of losing Terry to possibly make her see the error of her ways.

One hunch that I’m juggling right now is...what if…in order to fully restore Viren’s life, it’ll require some kind of sacrifice? Y’know like with FMA lore, there’s the whole equivalent exchange thing, right? Well imagine if…the only way for Viren to achieve his second chance at life completely is to have him steal the remaining life span of another being?

While I can definitely picture Aaravos being enough of a malicious asshole to make Viren consider sacrificing his precious daughter---y;know being the valuable asset that she was from his perspective--- I can also foresee a scenario in which Claudia is the one forced to perform the spell to save her father and thus chose between her boyfriend and her father.

Or perhaps…it’s a case where Aaravos makes the spell proposition to both Claudia and Viren behind each other’s back as a way of testing loyalities and intentionally turning them against one another.

Let’s say---Through Aaravos’ influence, Viren considered using Claudia as his sacrifice and Terry overhears his intentions.

In an effort to save Claudia, Terry attempts to warn her of her father’s intentions and even dares to try and get them to excape together however Claudia, being in extreme denial, refuses to believe Terry.

Ultimately, Terry ends up being the one sacrificed in Claudia’s place when Viren reveals his true colours and tries to forcibly steal Claudia’s life force only to have Terry interrupt the spell and sacrifice himself instead out of his devotion to her.

And then and only then after seeing the lengths that her father was willing to go, even at the expense of her own life despite all that she’s endured for him is what finally causes Claudia to realize what Soren was trying to warn her about and thus she finally leaves her father’s side, leaving alone with Aaravos.

Since Aaravos has been shown to be able to possess mages in his current state of power (like with the case of Callum)---perhaps his intention all along is to make Viren either his ultimate vessel or perhaps his most powerful loyal servant at the expense of his mind and humanity.

After this, Claudia finds our heroes and returns to Soren and the two have their own little heart-wrenching reunion and redemption moment, reminiscent of the iconic one between Zuko and Iroh from Avatar.

That’s my theory on that, for now.

---

In conclusion…

Those are my thoughts following my watch through of S4. As I’ll say again, as a whole, I thought the new season was a solid good start to get us TDP fans prepped and ready for what’s to come for this new Aaravos Arc.

Not sure how soon we’ll be able to hear news about S5 but, I’ll be on the look out. In the meantime, that’s all I have to say for now.

What about you fellow Dragon stans? Overall, how do ya’ll feel about this season?

Share your thoughts in the comments or reblogs if you wish.

Cheers.

~LMS (2022)

#the dragon prince #tdp season 4 #tdp spoilers #tdp theory #tdp terry #rayllum #tdp claudia

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bisexualbumblebee-writes · 1 year

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Returning Home Chapter 11- Thorin Oakenshield x OC

Thorin Oakenshield x Bellarose Baggins

Description: The Company is trapped in the dungeons of Mirkwood with no way out - well, at least that's what Bellarose thinks.

Word Count: 2.3k

Several of the Dwarves threw themselves at their cells doors, grunting in their effort and shouting frustratedly when it didn’t work. Bellarose leaned back against the wall, happy to have reprieve from walking on her ankle. She was glad that they allowed her to keep her herb bag as it had medicine to help her with the pain. She took it as she listened to the Dwarves’ struggling, knowing that it was all in vain but also knowing they wouldn’t listen to her. Thorin had been taken from the prison corridor to see the King, Thranduil, just a few minutes prior which meant he couldn’t stop them. Balin, however, could.

“Leave it! There’s no way out,” he exclaimed, which made everyone quiet down. “This is no Orc dungeon; these are the halls of the Woodland Realm. No one leaves here but by the King’s consent.”

“And…what happens if Thorin doesn’t get the King’s consent?” Bellarose asked hesitantly. Balin didn’t answer.

Thorin couldn’t have been gone for more than another ten minutes before he was all but dragged into the corridor. The jailer threw him into an empty cell and slammed the door. Balin waited until the jailer walked away before speaking.

“Did he offer you a deal?” He asked hopefully.

“He did,” the Dwarf muttered ruefully. “I told him ‘Ish kakhfê ai’d dur rugnu (I spit upon your grave)’ - him and all his kin!” Bellarose didn’t even have to look at Balin to know that he was disappointed. The weary sigh of frustration that came from his cell only served to prove that.

“Well...that’s it, then. A deal was our only hope.”

“Not our only hope,” Thorin responded softly.

The girl knew he was talking about Bilbo, but she just couldn’t see what he was thinking. She had read about Mirkwood extensively (she went through an Elf phase when she was younger) and knew that no one could possibly sneak into it without being noticed. Even Hobbits had a low chance of success. There was a high chance that, if Bilbo hadn’t managed to get in while that gate was still open, he probably wouldn’t get in at all. So, they were doomed to stay there.

“I’ll wager the sun’s on the rise,” Bofur muttered after several hours. “It must be nearly dawn.”

“We’re never going to reach the mountain, are we?” Bellarose nearly cried at the hopelessness in Ori’s tone. She lowered her head sadly and sighed.

“Not stuck in there, you’re not.” The girl’s head snapped up at the sound of her brother’s voice. She stood up and all but ran to her cell door, eyes widening when she saw Bilbo standing in front of Thorin’s cell with a ring of keys in his hand. The rest of the Company exclaimed in surprise and joy before the Hobbit shushed them.

“Shhh! There are guards nearby!” He whispered, though it was still loud enough for everyone to hear. They did as he said while eagerly watching as he unlocked Thorin’s cell and let him out. He then walked around releasing the rest of the Company. As soon as Bellarose was out she and her brother embraced.

“How are you here?” She asked in surprise as they pulled away, and Bilbo smiled.

“A burglar has his ways,” was his only response before reaching for a sheathed sword, which the girl hadn’t even realized he had wrapped around his waist along with his own sword. “Here, I think you may need this.”

Upon being handed it, she unsheathed it to reveal it was her sword that had been confiscated by that redhead Elf. A wide smile formed her lips as she looked at her brother once again, pulling him into another hug that he gladly returned. She didn’t even care how he managed to get that along with the keys anymore, she was just happy that she was free and they were all safe.

“Alright, to the stairs,” Dori muttered, urging Ori to go first.

“No, not that way,” Bilbo said quickly. “Down here. Follow me.” He led the Company through the Woodland Realm, sneaking through various halls until they ended up in the wine cellar.

“This way,” he whispered to the others as he snuck them past a table which contained a few sleeping Elves, likely sleeping off wine intoxication based on the several bottles around them. As they walked further into the cellar Kili looked around in disbelief.

“I don’t believe it. We’re in the cellars!”

“You were supposed to be leading us out, not further in,” Bofur exclaimed to the older Baggins as the others grew angry at him. Bilbo remained indignant.

“I know what I’m doing!”

“Quiet, both of you,” Bellarose scolded them in a yelled whisper, glancing back to make sure they weren’t heard. She faced her brother once he huffed.

“This way.” He wasted no time in leading them on. Eventually they ended up in a large room in which several barrels were stacked sideways down the middle of the room. All the barrels have one end open.

“Everyone, climb into the barrels, quickly!” Bilbo whisper yelled, which made everyone look at him in shock.

“Are you mad?” Dwalin questioned urgently. “They’ll find us!”

“No, no, they won’t, I promise you,” he said quickly. “Please, you must trust me!” For a moment everyone sort of just stood there, trying to figure out what to do. It wasn’t until they heard a commotion in the distance that they looked to Thorin for instruction.

“Do as he says!” And so they did. The Company climbed into a barrel and hid inside it. As Bellarose attempted to look for a barrel for herself she quickly realized there were no more empty ones.

“Oh dear…” she muttered, looking around frantically.

“In here, Miss Baggins,” Thorin suddenly said, gesturing her over to his barrel. “I think we’ll both be able to fit.” The girl hesitated at first, but quickly remembered that they were short on time. So she clamored into the barrel with Thorin. As they attempted to situate themselves (Bellarose trying not to blush at her close proximity to the Dwarf) they heard Bofur ask what to do next.

“Hold your breath,” was Bilbo's only reply. The younger girl confusedly peeked her head out to question him but had no time before he pulled a lever just a few feet away from the barrels.

And with that, the part of the floor that the barrels were on tilted downward into an opening. The barrels rolled out the opening and fell several feet into a river that runs beneath the Woodland Realm. Everyone yelled as they fell, and Bellarose found herself clutching Thorin’s shirt in fear as they hit the water. For a moment they went under with the weight in the barrel, but quickly resurfaced. Bellarose spit some water out then looked at the Dwarf when he spoke.

“Are you okay?” The worry in his voice made her smile as she nodded.

“Yes, I’m okay. Are you?” Thorin said he was okay, then before anything else was said Bilbo (who Bellarose hadn’t even realized wasn’t with them yet) fell into the water with a surprised yelp. He resurfaced just a moment later then grabbed hold of Nori’s barrel like his life depended on it.

“Well done, Master Baggins,” Thorin said with a smile. Bilbo, half drowned, waved his hand in thanks and managed to splutter out a word.

“Go.” With that the Company was off. They paddled with their hands until they emerged into the sunlight, which was when the current began taking them.

“Hold on!” Thorin suddenly yelled. Bellarose followed his gaze to a waterfall right in front of them. She didn’t even have time to gasp before the barrels plunged through the rapids, then floated swiftly down the raging river. As they rounded a corner they heard a horn being blown, then Bellarose noticed a guard post built above the river. And there were guards standing on it. After hearing the horn one of them pulled a lever, which made a heavy metal sluice gate to block the Company from leaving.

“No!” Thorin exclaimed as the barrels piled against each other after hitting the gate. The elven guards drew their swords, but one was suddenly shot in the back with a black arrow. Several growling Orcs swarmed over the guardpost, killing the Elves. Multitudes of Orcs then ran in from the bushes.

“Gorid! Zib! Goridug (Slay then all)!” The leader yelled out.

The Orcs began throwing themselves at the Company without hesitation. Bilbo managed to kill one with Sting while Dwalin elbowed one in the face. Bella unsheathed her sword and attempted to fight off one that threw themself at hers and Thorin’s barrel. She was surprised when she noticed Kili suddenly jump out of his own barrel.

“Kili! What are you doing?” She exclaimed worriedly. He ignored her as he ran upstairs towards the lever that the Elf guard had pulled earlier to close the gate, ducking as an Orc swung at him. Dwalin called his name then threw an Orc sword at him. He continued fighting his way to the top. As he neared the top, one Orc (who Bellarose assumed to be the leader given his height difference with the others) noticed the prince and grabbed his bow, firing an arrow and getting him in the calf.

“Kili!” Fili and Bellarose yelled worriedly as he stopped short of reaching the lever, panting softly. He groaned in pain and strained to pull the lever only to fall over onto his back. Thorin called his name softly, but the Hobbit didn’t have time to think about it as she noticed an Orc leaping over to finish the Prince off. Without a warning an arrow was shot at it, getting it through the back and killing it. The blonde and redhead Elf from earlier appeared along with a few others and began fighting off the horde.

That’s when Kili found the strength to grab the lever and pull it, allowing the gate to open. The Company fell down another waterfall and began floating down the river as he fell onto his back once more as the leader Orc yelled out angrily. Fili called his brother’s name once more, signaling for him to slide back into his barrel. Kili slowly slid off the ledge and into the barrel, crying out painfully because when he landed, the arrow in his leg broke off on the edge of it. The remaining Company plunged over the waterfall and continued floating down the rushing river, Bolg and his Orcs following them on land.

“Bella get down!” Thorin yelled as the Orc pack began throwing themselves at the barrels once again. The girl could do little more than squeak in surprise as he pushed her down both for her safety and for him to be able to see.

She had absolutely no idea what happened during that fight. All she could hear was shouting as the barrels continued moving down the still rapid river. It was difficult to maneuver, but after a short while she felt the waters calm a bit, though there was still a noticeable current pulling them along. Bellarose, however, continued to wait until she felt Thorin’s hand on her shoulder.

“We’ve lost them. I believe it’s safe now,” he informed her, voice tired and gruff from the fight. They maneuvered around each other until they were both comfortable. Thorin ended up with his lower half at the bottom of the barrel with Bellarose sitting on him so both of their top halves could be out of the barrel. Once they were both snug in their places Thorin looked around and took count, making sure everyone was accounted for. Looking pleased with the results he nodded.

“Everyone keep in the water. We can’t let them track us on land,” he instructed, earning nods all around.

“This river eventually leads to Laketown,” Bellarose added. “It’s a few hour’s travel but we should make it there before the sun sets. It’s the closest we’ll get to Erebor by water.” The others looked relieved to hear that, some of them even celebrating from their barrel.

Rather than continue to paddle they simply allowed the current to take them and enjoyed their moment of reprieve. As they rode down the river the Company either talked amongst themselves or simply took a moment to rest. Bellarose had opted to do the latter, laying her head on the edge of the barrel with her eyes closed. After a few minutes of just sitting there she felt Thorin’s eyes on her.

“You know, if we weren’t in these for our own safety, this would be a rather relaxing experience,” she half joked, opening her eyes when she heard him chuckle.

“Agreed,” was his only response, which made her smile.

“Thank you, by the way, for protecting me when those Orcs attacked,” she added much softer this time. “I’m afraid I haven’t quite mastered battle while in a barrel, let alone with someone else in it.”

“I guess that’ll just be another thing we’ll have to teach you,” he teased. Bellarose’s eyes widened to an exaggerated size as she held a hand to her chest.

“Thorin Oakenshield, did you just make a joke?” She asked the added drama in her tone only making her question more comedic. “Why, I never thought I’d see the day!” The two of them laughed at her explanation as a fond expression appeared in the Dwarf’s eyes to match his smile.

“Maybe you just bring out a different side of me,” he responded simply. It made her blush, and she found herself smiling back at him as they continued to float down the river comfortably.

Tag(s): @atomicsoulcollecto

#the hobbit #the hobbit imagine #thorin oakenshield #thorin imagine #thorin x oc

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animartiin · 2 years

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"This has been the introduction and I thank you for your taking your time to read this, as well as wish that you, my much appreciated reader, enjoy whatever becomes of your life however crazy things end up getting around here."

Excerpt from Of the Empires by Annalise of Rivendell, introduction, page 1.

You wake up. You think and you feel and you take in the sights and sounds and smells for the first time ever. Senses are... strange but exciting in a good way. So new, so shiny, so wow... You can't help but feel more than a little in awe of everything.

Except something gives you pause.

Your wizard, your creator, the reason for your existence, isn’t here. Why isn’t she here?

At first, you stay there. Sitting obediently. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting. You don’t know how much time passes. Days? Weeks? Or is it just hours?

It gets lonely. You learn quickly that you are not a patient being.

You decide that there’s no point in staying still. No, better to do something. Better to be — what’s the word? “Proactive”? Yes, that’s it.

At first, your movements are a little stiff, unused to doing such things as you are, but you quickly get the hang of them. Each step comes easier and easier until you forget how you could ever have found it so difficult.

It’s when you’re wandering, aimlessly as you always will in the many long years to come, that you meet her.

An elf on the road to who knows where. She's horseback and accompanied by a chicken on her lap.

What catches your eye first is her hair. You scrabble for the right words to describe it. “Seafoam green”. That’s it. You thank your wizard for her help, even though she can’t hear you. Such a pretty, soft shade. So unlike the purple of home. You wonder what she would think of it. Would she like it? You think she likes cute things - pretty colours are cute, right? - so maybe she would.

The second thing you notice is the fact she’s wearing armour and carrying weapons. All shimmering. All made of the same black-ish material.

What’s that called? Again, your wizard saves you. Second-hand knowledge appears to you and tells you “enchanted” and “netherite”.

Just as with the colour, you store away the knowledge for later.

Years and years from now you’ll get better at this sort of thing. Remembering what things are and what they mean without having to rely on the innate knowledge your wizard has kindly provided you with. But today is not then. That day won’t be coming about for a long while… Today, you’re just young and curious.

You walk right up to her, having not yet known nerves. You are not bold but you are not shy either.

The elf seems almost to startle at your sudden approach. An odd expression flashes across her face, quicker than you can think to try and decipher its meaning. Despite that, she smiles at you and as you walk towards her she steps down from her horse. She does not lower her weapon. But at the same time, she seems peaceful enough. You don’t think she means you any harm. Smiling is good, right? And she hasn’t made any moves to attack. None at all.

Now that you’re closer, you start noticing a few details you couldn’t before. A mix of red and white sand and dirt and soot coats her clothes and boots. The little bare skin of hers you can see is sunburnt and scarred. Her face is probably one that belongs to a young woman, barely out of adolescence if that, but the tiredness and shadows etched into it make it seem far older.

You greet her. But not with a returned smile, no. Your mouth isn’t really designed to go that way. Rather, you ask her name. As your wizard says is polite.

She gives it you freely, presenting it with a bow as she does so. The act is clumsy, unexpectedly uncoordinated for one with a sword at her hip and another clasped in her hand but it brings a little smile to her weary face so you don’t mention it.

She tells you that her name is “Annalise”, that she is of the fallen Rivendell. That her job before “The Disasters” was that of a “bodyguard-for-hire”, a protector so she’s decided to help look for survivors. Tells you that the animals beside her are her pets (“Grimbee” and “Slimesey”), that they are her partners too, that she could not do her work without them.

She asks your name, asks where you’re from, if you have anyone to go to.

Undecided. Crystal Cliffs. Maybe, you don’t know, she seems to have disappeared.

“A-A lost child, huh?”

Her tone is cheerful enough but that lightness in itself feels heavy. Even an amateur at life like yourself can tell how her voice trembles, how the words almost catch in her throat. Especially when she speaks of “Rivendell” and “survivors”.

You find it odd that she makes no mention of family. You know those born of flesh and blood have them as a rule. You suspect the reason why is that they’re dead considering the “fall” of her home.

Thinking that your wizard would wish for you to do so and wanting the company anyway, you ask her if you might be allowed to accompany her. If you might be allowed to talk and walk with her.

She agrees, to your mild surprise.

In the future, that surprise will become unsurprising. It’s just a fact of things. People don’t always do as you expect.

It’s from that moment that the pair of you begin travelling together. You helping her to locate and aid survivors and care for her numerous pets. Her telling you of her own various exploits and those of the fallen kingdoms’ rulers. It’s an equal trade, probably. Maintaining existing lives and learning of old ones.

She keeps up a running commentary almost the entire time, words falling out one after another, as though she’s afraid that if she stops something awful will happen.

Time passes by quickly and, almost before you realise it, your work is done.

You choose to part ways. Thank each other for the companionship and leave. It was a pleasant time but it will not kill you to make your own way.

Very little can kill you. You weren’t designed to die after all.

You come to like solitude, being able to choose who and what and why and where and when you interact with others.

You meet again a long time after, when the elf is older than any of her still living fellows and her seafoam green hair is no longer so vibrant as it was in her youth, and now you’re the only one left over from those times.

The elf known as Annalise - born of Rivendell but succumbing to death long after it - has all but been forgotten in these times.

That she was an animal lover, with a somewhat strange taste in names when it came to her pets. That she moved far from home at a young age and picked up a sword to protect as many as possible from that which lurks in the dark. That she had learnt how to fish on a whim, that she had been the one to teach you.

All these things have been forgotten by almost everyone. All except her writing. That, at least, outlives her.

But while most of the original texts have long since worn away to dust or mulch, surviving only through transcriptions and word of mouth, in this case that’s enough.

Even if in present they are considered merely to be the stuff of myth and children’s stories, at least they are still remembered. She would love that much if nothing else. That others, countless years still on, still wish to hear and read her words. That some of her favourite phrases and anecdotes still live and breathe.

—————

"I started writing this maybe a few days shy of my fifteenth birthday (shortly before or after I can't remember right this moment) and now, a handful of years later, I believe that it is ready to be published. I'm still rather young as far as elves go and I'll be the first to admit I'm not especially wise but I think we can all agree that a lot has happened over these past several years. So much that this a single, simple book couldn't hope to encompass it all.

This text has not been written with the intent of rhyme or reason and I sincerely hope that the few who read it do not expect as such. I simply wish to attempt to organise my thoughts in regards to the various things that have been happening of late in a way that makes sense to me personally. If this helps any others then, well, that would be merely an unintentional but happy side-effect.

This has been the introduction and I thank you for your taking your time to read this, as well as wish that you, my much appreciated reader, enjoy whatever becomes of your life however crazy things end up getting around here.

Thank you,

Annalise of Rivendell"

The text above is among the last surviving pieces of writing from prior to the series of apocalyptic events described as “The Rapture” in the Ocean Queen’s Records.

While it was written at an unknown point prior to the introduction of the A.R. (After Rapture) calendar, given context clues from the rest of the text it can be presumed the exact date of its publishing was within ten years prior to the tragedy.

Currently, this particular copy has been left in the safe-keeping of one Mr Pixlriffs, whom, with the permission of the donator (an anonymous citizen of Tumble Town), has hopes of using it to aid in his ambition of preserving records of the past.

#fancy writes #empires smp fanfic #empires smp #empiresblr #esmp #my writing #dangthatsalongname #geminitay #pixlriffs #empiresona: annalise #empiresona: jack #crossover #(technically speaking)#I hope that the formatting isn't messed up #wanted to continue the tradition from the previous two parts of having the summary bit at the top #unfortunately I couldn't manage to get it to go the same way it was...

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alphapotato · 11 months

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Untitled Smut project

Chapter 1

Dobby caressed Tony the Tiger’s chest with his wrinkled, grey, calloused fingers. He twirled his ring finger in his chest hair until the shriveled appendage was tangled and adorned in white.

“This is the closest Dobby will get to a wedding ring,” the twink-ish house elf thought.

Dobby closed his eyes and buried his long pointed nose in the crook of Tony the Tiger’s armpit. He took a deep inhale, and the scent of corn flakes and body odor filled his lungs. It was almost like a part of Tony the Tiger was inside him. Or at least more of Tony the Tiger was inside of him. After all, they had spent last night figuring out how much of Tony the Tiger would fit into Dobby’s little Dobby-hole. As it turned out, a great deal of the feline’s liquid children could be injected into his Dobby-guts.

“If only Dobby could be pregnant, then Tony the Tiger would HAVE to make an honest woman out of Dobby,” the pining elf thought.

Dobby took another inhale of Tony the Tiger’s pits and imagined the future they would have if only Dobby could trap him in a marriage with an unwanted pregnancy: Tony the Tiger would go to work at the Frosted Flake factory, and Dobby would get the children ready for school. Dobby imagined they would have three children; two girls and one boy. The eldest boy would be named Beyonce, and the twin girls would be named Ally and AJ. While the children were at school, Dobby would prepare his beloved’s favorite meal: Frosted Flake meatloaf. After school got out, Dobby would help the children with their homework. And when Tony the Tiger got back home, they would all sit down at the dinner table and pray to Trisha Paytas. They would thank her for their meal, as is house elf tradition. Dobby would put the children to sleep with his beautiful Dobby-voice, which he was convinced sounded just like Lana Del Rey. And everyday, Tony the Tiger would tell Dobby how pretty and skinny and beautiful he looked. And then after singing the children to sleep, Dobby would put Tony the Tiger to sleep with his Dobbussy.

Dobby took a second inhale.

“If only Dobby could be pregnant.”

But alas, Dobby could not get pregnant, no matter how much Tony Frosted his Flake.

Tony the Tiger shifted to the left, then to the right, and slowly his orange eyelids opened.

“Oh, you’re still here?” Tony asked. “Well I think you should probably head on out, I have work at 9.”

“Yes Tony the Tiger sir,” Dobby acquiesced as he climbed out of the comforter and into his urine-soaked brown rags. Tony the Tiger had spent much of the night peeing on Dobby, which made Dobby feel special.

“It’s almost as though Tony the Tiger were marking his territory,” Dobby thought. “Dobby is Tony the Tiger’s and no one elseseses.”

Dobby grabbed his gucci purse from the bedroom floor and walked out into the living room. In the living room,Tony the Tiger’s three roommates; Shane Dawson, Hannah Montana, and Naruto Uzumaki were eating breakfast. Naruto looked up from his ninja food and smiled warmly at Dobby.

“Oh! Dobby-san, I didn’t realize you spent the night again. Did you want to join us for breakfast? I made ninja food!”

Shane Dawson rolled his eyes as he grabbed his bowl of ninja food and left the table. Dobby didn’t blame Shane Dawson for this cold greeting, especially after the incident.

“Don’t mind him, please come sit!” Naruto was still smiling at Dobby.

Dobby smiled back and pulled out a gucci chair. Before he could sit, Hannah Montana slammed her gucci heel on the chair and said,

“Dobby, before you sit on our brand new chairs, I have to ask you to fart out Tony the Tiger’s cummies. Last time you were here you sat on our sofa, and now our sofa is pregnant.”

Dobby looked over at the sofa. Sure enough, there was a baby bump in the middle cushion. Dobby narrowed his eyes enviously at the sofa.

“If only Dobby could be pregnant,” he thought. “Fucking slutty sofa.”

Dobby hung his head to hide his Dobby-tears. He knew that Hannah Montana wasn’t purposely being rude. Her words still stung, not because he was embarrassed to carry Tony the Tiger’s seed. He was honored to carry the cream of the man-cat he loved. Hannah Montana’s word cut him so deeply because it reminded him of his womb-lessness.

Dobby hobbled to the bathroom carefully, so that he wouldn’t spill any kitty juices on the carpet floor. He closed and locked the bathroom door behind him with his Dobby-hand. Dobby spun around and faced the bathroom mirror. He put his grey hands on the sink counter. It was made from marble, the sexiest of all the rocks. It was so smooth on Dobby’s fingertips. So smooth. And with patterns so curvy. Dobby took his left hand off of the sink counter and onto his loose, blown-out Dobbussy. Dobby slid his Dobby-finger across his Dobby-slit. It was wet with a thick substance. Dobby’s left hand raised to Dobby’s Dobby-nose. He took a sharp inhale, and then a long deep inhale. It smelled like love. The finger dropped to his Dobby-mouth, and his tongue touched the white-brown goo. It tasted like love. Dobby put his slutty, slutty Dobby-hand back to his Dobby-hole. This time, his fingernail pressed on his anus. Then the fingernail entered his ass. Dobby’s butthole was calloused by years of getting totally buttfucked that the nail couldn’t cause lacerations. Dobby wiggled his long two-inch finger nail in his ass. As Dobby’s Dobby-finger enters the hole, his fingernail bumps against his Dobby-prostate. He started scratching it like once of the lotto tickets he so often scratched. Dobby was a gambling addict, so the thought of gambling make his pecker rock hard. He started scratching harder and deeper until he started to pre-cum. His right hand started petting the sexy, slutty marble counter. He gave it a little spank.

“You like that Dobby-spank, slut?” Dobby said to the counter.

Soon a second finger entered his booty-ho. Then three. Then, Dobby’s left hand was inside of him. It was like dipping his hand into a honey pot full of sweet, sticky, thick honey. Dobby slowly took his hand out of him. It was glazed in a genital-smelling off-white goo. Dooby scooped some into his slutty mouth. He flung some into the sink, and then his returned his left hand to his Dobby-cavity.

“Does the taste of Dobby’s slut cream please you?” Dobby said to the counter.

Dobby turned on the sink full blast.

“Swallow Dobby’s ass cream,” Dobby whispered aggressively to the counter.

Dobby’s 2-inch shriveled penis was fully erect at this point. His fist now entered and exited his Dobby-hole with a steady rhythm. It made a sloshing, farting noise. Dobby’s penis rubbed against the marble. He pressed it so hard against the counter the rubbing made a squeaky sound. He thought of his time at the casino with Shane Dawson. So many lights, the clattering of poker chips, the ticking of the poker wheel, this made him pre-cum more. His pre-cum allowed his dick to enjoy a slip-n-slide of sorts. He thrusted his delicate, skinny hips more violently. He was going to give this counter his seed. He continued this for some time.

Dobby’s ears perked. He heard the locked doorknob’s metallic clanging. Then a knocking at the door.

“Dobby, you’ve been in there two hours now. What are you doing?”

It was Hannah Montanna. Dobby didn’t care. He was a wild and horny soul. A soul that would NOT be refused the right to please his insatiable Dobby-hole.

Then he heard a key enter the doorknob. The door swung open to reveal Hannah Montana with her arms crossed across her chest. She leered at Dobby, clearly unhappy with the house elf’s slutty behavior.

“Dobby, please go home” She said, exasperated. A Disney laugh track played in the background.

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parchmentedpetrichor · 3 years

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➳april’s fool ♡

in which fred weasley is in love with y/n l/n, the girl he happens to tease and insult profusely for her attention.

fred weasley x gryffindor!fem!reader

word count: ±4.3k

tw: food, fireworks, pranking, fred being a bully, tad bits of swearing

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my masterlist:D

ft. minnie, dumbledore and severus

yeah, your grandmama probably know me

get more bottles, these bottles are lonely

it's a moment when I show up, got 'em sayin', "wow"

april’s fool

“tomorrow is april fools,” dumbledore sighs.

“you know what that means...?” mcgonagall asks, her voice on edge.

“the twins,” snape replies quickly, not even bothered one bit as he sips his dark coffee.

“and their pranks,” dumbledore dramatically rolls over in his armchair.

“okay and?”

“they’re a hazard, severus!” mcgonagall replies.

“that doesn’t stop them.”

“what will stop them?” dumbledore ponders, eyes faint with interest.

“you still have those weird buzzy fireworks right?” snape asks.

“of course.”

“and minnie, you have the cake mix your grandmother gave you?”

“still in my cupboard next to the biscuits.”

“excellent.”

y/n l/n listens from the other side of the door, grinning. she’s been called to mcgonagall’s lavish office for some business she hopes isn’t trouble, but the conversation the three are deeply invested in piques her interest.

she likes fun. the type of continuous laughter and uncontrollable fits of giggles at noon. that’s why she enjoys the pranks the twins play. they’re bold, sharp and reckless and have the undoubtable trademark of fred and george on them.

one too a many times she’s been on the receiving end of them. one time the twins had charmed the library so that she and other studious students could not find any books that they wanted or needed for a whole week.

another time, her hair had been dyed bright pink. she wasn’t a fan of it, but tried her best to rock it. it worked. y/n had received many compliments on her bubblegum pink locks.

she laughed it off a lot. whenever something quite embarrassing happened, it was usually funny.

even the snide remarks the older twin always cast her way.

including the time he called her a blackhead. well, multiple times.

“oi, l/n, looking like a blackhead.”

george had rolled his eyes at his brother before adding kindly, “at least you have nice hair. your tie’s always shiny too.”

she had just laughed, “at least i’ve got the blackhead looks to pull pink hair off, weasley, you can’t even pull off ginger hair, and thanks, georgie. love ya.”

fred had looked taken aback, but y/n still scowls at the memory. she gets she isn’t pretty, but there is a line you don’t cross when trying to insult someone.

he always calls her the most awful nicknames too; body parts that align with her name and random pieces of rubbish she isn’t bothered to remember.

she shakes herself of her thoughts and draws herself up, knocking thrice on the door lightly.

“come in,” mcgonagall’s calm tone beckons.

“good afternoon professors!” she chirps, smiling at all three.

they smile back. even snape. they’re big fans of the girl, who’s studious but mischievous. albus dumbledore has always thought that y/n’s eyes always look like all she’s seen is a beautiful sunset.

“now you must wonder why i called you here,” mcgonagall starts.

“you see, how have you punished the weasley twins when they play all those pranks on you?” dumbledore eagerly asks.

y/n gives a light laugh, “i just prank them back. i won’t get detention for this, right?” she jokes.

they laugh, “of course you will,” snape jokes back and for a second y/n is surprised that severus snape, the ever so cold potions professor, is cracking jokes. especially to her.

“well then, i guess i can’t tell you how i prank them back then,” she drawls dramatically.

“no, no, do tell, we’re, what do you young people say?” mcgonagall pauses, “ahh yes! we’re all ears!”

y/n bursts out laughing, “okay, i usually do something that’s subtle enough but still very noticeable. they need to be anonymous too, or that’ll start prank wars and i’m only looking for short term pleasure really. one time, i dumped a whole bunch of polyjuice potion in both their little goblets. fred became george and george became fred. they were so confused.”

mcgonagall is impressed.

“can you bake?” dumbledore asks and y/n shakes her head for a long time.

“can’t bake for my sanity.”

“awesome. that is what i thought too,” dumbledore answers and y/n smiles.

a single knock sounds. it’s proper and formal.

“come in!” mcgonagall yells.

draco malfoy in all his glory steps into the room, eyes alight with concern, ever so indifferent.

y/n knows him from quidditch. they’ve become relatively good friends, though she thinks he is very busy with his home life. she also knows that there’s more to him than the facade he has.

“afternoon,” he nods and gives a charming smile.

“now, draco, i understand your mother had enrolled you in baking classes,” snape says.

draco nods.

“you must bake a cake,” mcgonagall hands him the cake mix.

she hands y/n the box of fireworks and winks.

“good day professors! make sure to be at breakfast tomorrow!” y/n shouts, dragging draco with her to the kitchens.

soon draco is laughing with y/n, at her atrocious puns and lightly placed jokes, finding himself very much happy. he’s not interested in her romantically, he simply enjoys her company. he’s even sharing some funny stories of his own too.

“...and i told him, to precisely fuck off.”

“so that’s how you deal with him!”

“oh no, he didn’t stop. he kept bugging me.”

“what did you do then?”

“i cast a muffliato charm on him.”

y/n bursts into laughter as they pass the gryffindor common room, quickly hiding the box of fireworks in her cloak as she spots two red heads quietly snickering by the fat lady.

they notice the unlikely pair scurrying down the stairs.

“hey, google eyes!” fred shouts.

y/n doesn’t know fred well enough to decide if that greeting is dedicated to herself, so she continues upon her way.

“weasley,” draco states.

“huh?” y/n fakes oblivion.

draco jerks his head in the way of the twins, where fred is smirking handsomely, leaning against the wall in a model-like fashion.

george is shaking his head in dismay.

“i said googly eyes!” fred shouts again.

y/n won’t lie, she thinks fred has undoubtedly good looks and his ginger hair is cute. he’s just a terrible person. to her, at least. she knows she’s biased, she’s often seen fred comforting ginny after a bad fight with a boyfriend, and from what she’s heard from alicia and angelina and katie, he’s funny too.

she whips out her glasses and stares deadpan at him, before rolling her eyes and running with draco down the stairs, laughing like madmen.

they finish baking late at night, and waving her wand smartly over the cake, y/n produces a charm that will make the fireworks activate as soon as the cake is cut open.

draco smiles as he pipes purple and orange roses, writing a ‘happy bday fred and george’ in chocolate letters.

they add lots of sprinkles, hoping to seem like avid admirers of the twins.

“does miss l/n and misters malfoy need any assistance?” a house elf asks.

draco just about opens his mouth to snap a ‘no’ when y/n gives him a silencing look.

“thank you rosemarie, but that is not needed, you are welcome to watch and talk with us though,” y/n politely answers, giving her a grin.

the house elf sniffles, “miss l/n is too nice! rosemarie will make some hot chocolate for her! pretty hair!”

y/n laughs, “thank you very much, rosemarie. i think mister malfoy would also like some hot chocolate, with a tiny bit of firewhiskey, if that’s alright with you,” she winks at draco who just scoffs in reply.

when they’re finished with the cake and the hot chocolate, y/n enters the gryffindor common room. angelina takes the cake and wraps it up in a box and nice wrapping paper. she sends it flying to the twins’ usual spot on the gryffindor table.

“thanks angie!” y/n smiles, getting up from the cozy spot near the fire in the common room.

“why are you going? we’re staying up till midnight for the twins’ birthday; wanna join?” angelina asks.

y/n shakes her head, “i’m not too close with them, it seems like a rather intimate ceremony,” she keeps her words fluffy and light. really, she would join any birthday celebration, but she didn’t think she could handle the constant insults and annoying comments fred always made about her. and this would have been completely acceptable if she had done something to any one of the weasleys, but she hadn’t. she even regards ginny weasley as a little sister and was invited to one of ginny’s infamous slumber parties. okay, she might have a little crush on him for his joke-ish nature, but it’s nothing she can’t get over. he’s out of her league, for sure, she thinks. and terribly rude. she doesn’t understand why she still harbours those feelings for him. maybe because that time adrian pucey was mocking her for her ‘blood purity’ he stood up for her. or that time she hurt herself at quidditch and fred stayed up with her bandaging her wound. he cared when it mattered, she guesses.

“i’m sure they would love you there.”

“fat chance,” she scoffs, “have a good night!”

she goes to her own dormitory up the stairs. she’s well known in gryffindor house, but for different reasons than the twins may be. although she’s close with angie and alicia, she’s not close with the twins. mainly because she’s always studying, playing quidditch, and doing prefect things.

being on a quidditch team with fred weasley is bearable. mainly because she’s the captain.

she��s stopped by a large hand on her shoulder. the owner of the hand swivels and suddenly a grinning fred is revealed.

“where’re you going?” fred weasley’s annoying voice pronounces.

“the sahara desert,” she snaps back dryly, “you’re in the way of my world exploration.”

“am i, really?”

“‘course,” she reigns her attitude in, “nice night, isn’t it?”

“for you? never.”

she scowls. fred watches in utter amusement as she takes a deep breath and charmingly smiles.

“dearest freddie, will you please allow me to get to my dorm so i can have some sleep?”

fred’s heart skips a little at the nickname but shakes his head.

“what’s the password?”

y/n sighs. “i don’t know. y/n is a blackhead. googly eyes. whatevers.”

fred lets out a loud laugh. y/n finds herself trying hard not to laugh with him.

she turns around, ready to find her hufflepuff friend that has a spare bed in their dormitory, knowing fred is really stubborn.

“that’s not the password.”

“well, good night.” she walks off, before intensely diving in a style harry potter himself would be proud of, onto the stairs and running up the dorms laughing.

fred stands at the bottom of the stairs, dumbfounded, his jaw hanging open.

“close your mouth, flies will be caught,” he heard the giggling voice of y/n.

“close yours and you’ll look better,” he insults back.

“oh shut up. we know i’m the prettier one. and that’s saying something.”

the next morning, fred and george wake up to presents, a rowdy common room, and a nice cake sitting waiting for them on the gryffindor table.

for the first time, y/n takes a seat opposite them, her eyes alight with the familiar mischief they always held. she steals glances at the professors, who were beaming down with interest, as if they shared an inside joke. draco malfoy has an odd smirk on his pale face.

all eyes are on them as they cut open the cake. with a bang, fireworks come flying out of the cake in all directions, sending crumbs and icing flying in the air and leaving soot on the twin’s faces. their ginger hair is covered neatly with white icing and the fireworks continue for a calamitous five minutes. everyone’s too busy laughing and trying to dodge the flying cake to see that y/n l/n and draco malfoy are laughing quietly in a corner together, both with spells like umbrellas.

fred’s eyes, however, are trained on y/n, who’s rolling over in laughter. he quickly casts a scourgify on himself and george, and strides casually over to her and malfoy, the usual lazy smirk on his face as he hears ‘draco ohmygosh that was the best. your cake decos are on point! d’ya think he’ll ever bully me again?’. that confirms his suspicions. she did play this prank on him. and it makes him feel fuzzy inside.

his face then contorts into a frown. she thinks he bullies her?

“i wouldn’t say he bullies you, y/n.”

he smiles. never mind.

“but it isss! i can assure you, there is absolutely nothing nice ‘bout being called a frame!”

fred snorts at the time y/n had been gushing adorably over a picture frame that was embellished with gold and bronze flowers to angelina. he had went over and in an attempt to catch her attention, said ‘you’re a frame’.

sure, he was good at flirting, but not to the girls he really really liked.

“that’s fucking funny,” malfoy laughs.

“oh shut it draco, your face is funny. but yeah, i should probably ask him to start fresh.”

he decides to interrupt their conversation.

“ask who to start fresh?” he butts in.

y/n doesn’t even look surprised, “in fact, you, fred, because i’m not really sure if i’ve done anything wrong to you or anything, and by my memory i don’t think i have and you keep being rude and stuff. if i have, i’m really sorry for it and i’m sorry that i hurt you and all. if we can y’know, start over, and maybe be friends?” she catches the unreadable look in fred’s eyes and hesitates, “or maybe not, that’s okay, we don’t need to!” she gives a small laugh, “er, sorry for ever bringing it up?”

the earnestness of her tone and the wistful look in her eyes makes fred fall a little harder. ever since he saw her nervously fiddling with her robes in first year, he’s been smitten.

there’s a silence. malfoy has slipped off, the sneaky bastard.

fred simply takes y/n’s hand, giving her a look as if to ask for permission.

she swallows and nods.

they’re in the courtyard, which is sunny and light. flowers are blooming everywhere.

“can i kiss you?” fred asks.

y/n’s eyebrows go up. “what?”

“can i kiss you?” fred repeats patiently.

“as in kiss? k-i-s-s?” y/n asks, eyes wide with suspicion and curiosity.

“yep,” he chuckles, “crazy, aren’t i?”

“yeah, you’re crazy.”

“really? can i kiss you?”

“i’ve never really kissed anyone.”

“i guessed that.”

her eyebrows furrowed in hurt, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“i’ll tell you if you let me kiss you.”

“there better be a good reason because i was saving it for someone special.”

“i need a yes, love.”

she huffs, “yes.” she won’t tell him that she has a crush on him, because to be honest, she still isn’t sure if this is a prank or not.

she surprised when fred tilts her head up ever so gently, a smile on his face.

this kiss is short and sweet. he tastes like cinnamon.

when they’ve let go, fred notices the light pink dusted over her cheeks. he smirks.

“you have to tell me why you thought i’ve never kissed anyone,” she said, eyes flashing in deep thought.

“such a beautiful person as you does not deserve kisses from anyone.”

“...”

fred took this as a sign to go on. “the reason i’ve always teased you endlessly is because i want your attention. i didn’t think you’d give it to me any other way. if you haven’t noticed, i’m in love with you. i think you’re absolutely beautiful, both ways. i love it when you frown and get annoyed, even if you rarely do, i love it when you study so hard your face makes this really concentrated look. i love it especially when you laugh and smile and joke and play pranks. even if they’re on me.”

“...” she was studying his movements. inside her brain, a frenzy was going on. part of her brain- the ever so optimistic part, was screaming happily, and the logical part was using body language to analyse whether he was lying or not.

eyes? their honey brown colour was glistening with affection and truth, an expression so dainty on his face.

a quaint little smile was on his lips, a small one, a genuine one. it was different to all the other smiles she’d seen him smile.

he wasn’t acting, she decided. if he was, he should take up a job in broadway.

“y/n?”

her brows were furrowed. she’d never been confessed to as genuinely as this before.

if they started this type of relationship would he still be mean and insult her all the time?

“i-i need time. to figure this out.”

he doesn’t look disappointed, she thinks. instead he looks down at her with... adoration?

“of course, sweetness, anything, i’ll wait for you.”

she smiles, “thank you, freddie.”

☆

it’s been a few days since fred’s confessed to her. she’s still unsure if he was joking or not. why?

at this moment, she’s watching him giggle with angelina johnson. it seems like he’s forgotten everything and anything. he’s gotten closer to her. maybe he’s lost feelings for y/n? she can’t blame angie, she’s a wonderful girl. if he likes her, that’s fine too. suddenly her feelings for him become very clear. she like-likes him. and it’s a bit too late.

but maybe he doesn’t like angie in that way? maybe he’s still into her?

y/n knows molly weasley raises her children with patience. she should trust that fred’s waiting for her.

but then again, she’s never gonna be as special as angie johnson. she’s just a ever so polite and outgoing nerd. someone who’s foolish enough to prank. angie’s smart, confident and funny and terribly patient. and effortlessly beautiful. she’s got the true gryffindor touch. and angie’s been one of fred’s best friends since day one. she’s always gonna be number 1.

that’s ok. she’ll accept it. she likes angie anyway. it was probably a joke anyway.

she couldn’t be jealous, just a bit dismayed that it wasn’t genuine. whatever, she thinks. we can just go back to how we were before. or not.

and it’s relatively easy. they never really saw much of each other anyway. she’ll get over this tiny little liking.

it’ll just be like normal. none of this happened. none of it. she grimaces bitterly, damning fred for his stupid games. should’ve known this was another of his pranks. but his acting though, certainly very good.

she smiles to herself.

“knock it off, y/n, you’re here to learn, not to love.”

and that answer, is satisfactory.

she gets up from her spot on the gryffindor table rather abruptly, saying goodbye to her friends, and makes her way to the kitchens. she knows she won’t be alone, she’ll talk to hansel and gretel, the twins that cook with the house elves every dinner.

they’re cleaning up as she walks in, book in hand.

“hi hans, g!” she calls, as she rolls up the sleeves of her sweater to help them with the dishes.

“y/n!” gretel gives her a hug with soapy arms and y/n giggles.

“how are both of you?” y/n asks.

“good, good, potions though...” hansel trails off and they all laugh.

“potions is always like that,” y/n agrees, “it’s supposed to be really hard for newts, so you can’t really blame the subject.”

“i’m thinking of dropping divination,” gretel says.

“yeah, that’s wise, gretel buns,” hansel teases and gretel scowls.

“divination is an easy subject, gretel, you just need to make random stuff up. i saw this weird bear thing in polly’s tea leaves, it wasn’t in the textbook. i told trelawney it was a symbol that a stranger would come and whip polly off her feet, with a whip the colour of the rarest german emeralds, leaving her absolutely smitten. i got full marks,” y/n laughs.

they laugh too, and soon a light flowing conversation is shared over cups of hot chocolate.

this is repeated for quite a few days and y/n even invites polly, marla and lenox, her best friends, to join. it’s a delicate, nice kind of week, one that suits her current struggles.

when the weekends roll around, hansel and gretel suggest that they all sit at the hufflepuff table. they share jokes and quips over the food, y/n reading a book as she bites happily into apple pie.

“pfft,” her lips upturn ever so slightly at the quote that the character makes.

fred watches her from the gryffindor table, utterly confused. y/n’s been avoiding him. he sees the flashes of hurt that run through her eyes whenever she sees him, and the quick grin that’s far too fake that follows. she’s been reading a lot more and he never sees her anymore.

he wonders what he’s doing wrong. so as he sees her walking with her friends to hogsmeade, he calls for her.

“y/n!”

her friends giggle as they see him, but she gives him a fleeting glance and raises her eyebrows at them, shaking her head, before profusely apologising to each one of them.

she approaches him warily, with all practicality in mind. she leads with her heart, but her head protects her.

fool me once, shame on you.

fool me twice, shame on me.

“you’ve been avoiding me,” he states.

“what would you expect?” she snaps, “isn’t this all a good laugh for you anyway?”

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

“you know what i mean, this was all a joke, wasn’t it? fooling my poor little heart which you know has a crush on you. my head simply won’t allow it. admit it, and we can both move on with our lives,” her tone is sharp and cold, her eyes burning with fury and hurt, “i may seem gullible, and i am,” she gave a short laugh, “but when i notice, don’t even try to lie.”

“this wasn’t a joke, love.”

“don’t call me that, and you and i both know it is. your acting though, absolutely superb!”

“what makes you think this was a prank, y/n? you were the one who asked for time.”

“yes, and the time made me realise that i had feelings for you despite all the teasing AND the fact you couldn’t possibly be genuine!” y/n says exasperatedly, her fury dissolving quickly, “you looked so in place with angie and everyone that it’s so obviously some sort of fun thing you did to try to get back at me!”

“angie?”

“a-and everyone else.”

“angie?” fred’s eyes were amused.

“you know, angelina, as in johnson.”

“angie?”

y/n shrugs, “you did bring her to the yule ball last year.”

“angie??!!!” fred was full on smirking now, as if trying to receive a real response.

“i think you like her, okay?! are we done here? i’d very much like a good book from f&b,” y/n sighs.

“i’ll accompany you to flourish and botts. why would you think i like her? didn’t i just confess to you?”

“yeah but it seemed kinda...” y/n trails off, not wanting her insecurities to come off as compliment fishing, “kinda far-fetched.”

“meaning?” fred knows exactly what she means.

“you know!”

“oh but i don’t,” he smiles innocently.

“well, you’re you!”

“is that supposed to be an insult?” he asks, faking a look of hurt rather well as y/n looks alarmed.

“no, no, as in, you’re nice to look at, and you’ve always insulted me and been so nice and cool to everyone. are you for real?”

“nice to look at?” a cocky grin is on his face now, much more noticeable than the slight blush that was creeping up his face.

“is that the only thing you could pick up?”

“nice to look at? what’s up with me repeating myself today?”

y/n lets out an agitated sigh. he doesn’t know, he’s blunt and straightforward. she likes cushioning her words.

“y’know, handsome? good looking?”

“my middle names.” another smirk to conceal the blushing.

y/n smiles. “of course, everyone knows it.”

it makes fred uncomfortable. her light tone is a bit menacing too.

“only joking.”

“i’m sure everyone does know it, darling.”

y/n is too busy looking at the dog that passes by to hear him, rambling quietly to herself over the cute scottish terrier.

“sorry, what was that?”

“aren’t i cuter than the dog?”

“nup.”

“really?” fred casually slings an arm over y/n’s shoulders, having to stoop a little lower to reach her.

“i think so.”

“well i’ll tell you something love, i think you’re absolutely stunning.”

“some love potion you’re on.”

“uh huh, the love potion is called love, sweetness.”

“so you’re for real?”

“as real as you and me.”

“you’re cheesy. this isn’t a prank right?”

“not at all, i love you.”

“i-i don’t think i love you just yet, but i think it’s possible,” y/n bites her lip, anxiously awaiting his response.

she tilts her head to look at him.

he’s beaming. he looks more handsome than ever, a sweet smile etched on his face as he looks down at her in utter adoration.

“you have a crush on me!” he pulls her into a hug and giggles like a little girl, kissing the top of her head.

she’s engulfed by the smell of burning wood and cinnamon and immediately feels safe in his strong arms.

“how’d you say we go on a date? so i can show how sorry i am for all the times i called you googly eyes and played pranks on you.”

“i’ll check to see if the girls are okay with it,” y/n replies, turning her head to see her friends. they’re gone.

“they are. i asked them to shoo off before i approached you. is that a yes?”

y/n nods, “of course, freddie.”

“i love you.”

she laughs, “you really are april’s fool.”

“i’m your april’s fool.”

he buries his nose in the crook of her neck to stop her from seeing his blushing red face.

#fredweasley #fred weasley x y/n #frederick weasley #fred weasley x reader #gryffindor #hansel and gretel #fanfic #harry potter #hogwarts #hufflepuff #angelina johnson #alicia spinnet #y/n #harrypotter #hogsmeade

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onbeinganangel · 3 years

Text

warmup ficlet for @the-starryknight! she picked 'i know we’re not together but i might die today so i’m going to kiss you just in case there is no later' from this wee list of kisses and asked me to drarry it up and I rubbed my hands together in glee knowing fully well i was about to put together a hell of an angst sandwich

not beta'd, not edited, just angst with a happy ending directly from my heart to yours! (cw: some canon-style mentions of blood, violence, injury and also kind of patient/healer relationship)

damned if you do it and damned if you don’t

(draco/harry, 1.8k)

Draco had pictured it so often throughout his life he sometimes couldn’t honestly believe he had made it all the way to twenty-seven.

He remembers saying it after being thrown on his arse by the family Abraxan. He’d been very little, then. Five or six, maybe. He’d cried, big fat tears running down his face, and when his Mother finally managed to pull his tiny fists down and stop him from hiding his crying behind them, he’d announced, “Maman, I am dying.” She had assured him he very much wasn’t. They’d had scones with big heaped spoonfuls of clotted cream and raspberry jam in the garden and he’d soon forgotten about his fall.

A few years later, he fell off his broom and straight into the lake. Dobby had spelled him dry to avoid him getting in trouble and he was still heaving, coughing up water and panicking when he told the Elf, “Dobby, I am dying.”

Then there was the incident at Hogwarts. He still felt the sharp talons on his skin way after the hippogriff was far, far away, as he bled, holding onto the gashes on his arm and announced to the whole class, “I am dying, it’s killed me!”

Between the ages of sixteen and eighteen, it was more constant. It was the heavy burn of the Mark settling on his arm, it was the feeling of all his organs lighting up in pain and his bones breaking under Crucio after Crucio, it was the sounds of Nagini slithering outside his bedroom door at night, the sickening thud of death, the unsettling screaming, his aunt’s shrill nails-on-chalkboard voice, Greyback’s growls. A neverending chant of “I am dying, I am dying, I am dying, I am dying” inside his head.

It was confiding in a ghost, it was crying because the fear of failure was so intense he reckons he would have preferred to be dead then, it was the only person he believed was actually kind and pure and incapable of willingly inflicting pain on anyone slashing him open and leaving him for dead on a bathroom floor. Draco had looked at Snape, murmuring spell after spell over him, and he’d whispered, “I am dying.”

It was learning how to be numb, how to not feel, how to keep everyone out of his mind and away from his thoughts, it was the paralysing terror of crawling around in the shadows, the bone-deep dread of dropping leftover bread rolls on the floor by the bars on the dungeon and kicking them swiftly into the other side, where they kept his classmates. It was sneaking a blanket or two down and saying to himself, “If they find out…”

It was the persistent horror of knowing you don’t believe in what you’re doing and knowing you’re damned if you do it and damned if you don’t. Between the ages of sixteen and eighteen, Draco would lie in his bed at night — his own at home, his own in the dorms, Pansy’s in the girls’ dorms when it got bad, and he would say it to himself, hoping it would become true, “I am dying.”

But he hadn’t. Despite all odds, Draco is happy. Twenty-seven. He’s got friends, a flat, a job he loves and he’s good at. He’s no longer spat at on the streets. He survived, he made amends, he managed it all. Most of all, he had managed not to die.

Until now, that is. This time he’s pretty certain he won’t be afforded such luck. He feels the curse hit him square on the chest. It’s his own fault, really, for not realising there was someone already in the room he entered. He’d been too busy throwing a rather flourished Incarcerous across the room at the two potions dealers he’d been running after for the past five minutes to notice the third man.

Draco is falling backwards before he has time to even think about anything, his wand clanking noisily seconds before he joins it on the floor.

Then: “Incarcerous.” He hears it — muffled but there. And after, “Fuck, Draco.”

He’s way too familiar with the way his Auror partner works not to know it’s him when the strong arms wrap around him and pull him up. “Oh, Merlin,” he hears. His eyes flutter back open for a couple of seconds and he can tell he was right, even if it’s all blurry: red robes, orange hair, worried blue eyes.

Fear. “I am dying,” he thinks. “Harry,” he says.

“You’re gonna see Harry alright,” Ron says. “He’s gonna have words about having to heal you again,” it’s almost like a joke. Like a Ronald-typical joke. But there’s an edge of worry there. There’s panic. Ronald doesn’t panic.

And it dawns on him. Draco tries to look down but it’s all red. The burgundy of his robes, the sticky dark red of drying blood on his hands and the fresh and vivid blood still pouring out of his chest. He’s not gonna make it to St. Mungo’s, he’s never going to make it to Harry.

“I am dying,” he says, and Ron makes a noise that can only be described as half agony, half agreement.

It smells like St. Mungo’s when he wakes up thinking “I am dying.” Very faintly, he hears the same voice he always hears in his dreams. Maybe he is dead. The voice never sounds like this in his dreams, though: disembodied, frantic, quick. Draco catches half words, half sentences, half conversations that don’t make sense. A different voice is saying “just do it” and “you’re powerful enough” and “sod protocol” and “I am his partner, I brought him here.” The voice from his dreams responds with things like “unstable” and “I don’t know” and “can you please try” and a “I can’t get in touch with her” and “not without consent forms” and a louder, angry “he’s not going to d—“

Draco tries to move towards the voice.

“Draco!” Says the first voice and three pairs of feet come towards him.

“Don’t try to open your eyes, don’t try to talk, don’t try to move, okay? We have stopped the bleeding for now, but we’re still trying to reverse the curse.”

“Harry.” His Harry.

“Yes, hello. We have got to stop meeting like this.”

“I am dying,” Draco croaks out.

“I won’t let you.”

Draco wants to speak. He wants to say “I am dying, I don’t want to die without telling you,” but he has no strength. His thoughts are going faster than the newest Firebolt as he hears Harry tell whoever else is in the room (Ron?) to leave. He wonders if this is it. This what they show you in the films: your life flashing before your eyes right before you die. He thinks of Harry shaking his hand after his Auror graduation ceremony. “Well done, Malfoy,” he’d said. He thinks of that first time he’d been invited over to Ron and Hermione’s, a few weeks after he became Ron’s partner, and Harry had laughed at his stories, lips wine-red and plump, eyes kind like he’d never expected. He thinks of every moment of almost in between them, every moment where Draco considered blurting it out, saying what was on his mind. The Christmas Gala as he towered over Harry and fixed the little chain on his robes for him, and that night at that dingy club for Hermione’s birthday where they’d stared at each other for forty minutes and when Draco had decided he couldn’t take it anymore, he found out that Harry had left. Or just last month when they’d gone out to buy a housewarming present for Luna and ended up eating leftovers on Harry’s sofa, exhausted from people and walking. There are too many. Too many instances of hesitation, too many “nearly-but-not-quites.”

And he’ll die and won’t ever get the chance to tell him, to kiss his handsome, stupid, precious face, and it aches — it hurts almost as much as that spot just to the left of his breastbone where the Curse had hit, where he was profusely bleeding not long ago.

“Closer,” he manages, very quietly.

Harry approaches, but not close enough, not even close enough for Draco to grab at him.

“Cl— clos—uh—closer,” he tries again.

And Harry’s right there, by his bed and he looks beautiful in his Healer robes (unheard of, really) and Draco is blinking his view into a sharper focus and listing all the things he knows he loves, the things he doesn’t want to forget: the white-ish storm of a scar that slashes through Harry’s eyebrow, the shiny (shinier than usual?) green eyes, the touch of stubble, the slightly crooked nose, the lips — oh, the lips, plump and sweet looking and Draco will never get to find out just how sweet. And then, he has to do it. Because if he’s going to die anyway, he may as well use his last breath on this.

He pushes himself off the pillow slightly and his hand pulls Harry’s green robes closer until their lips meet, clumsily and hard — Harry not expecting it, Draco waning from the efforts of pulling Harry closer, but Draco will die knowing he’s kissed Harry. And if there’s no later, at least he’s done it. At least Harry knows.

“Stop. You’ll hurt yourself,” Harry says, and pushes him back down. Gently, like everything he does.

“But—“

“I know, darling. Me too.”

Darling? Harry… too?

“I’m going to heal you, okay? I’m going to heal you and we’ll do that again. I’ll take you to dinner, or brunch, I know you like brunch. Or just coffee. We’ll go to the pictures. I’ll hold your hand. We’ll go flying. We’ll go clubbing and I’ll dance with you, I promise I will, and I’ll let you tell me how bad I am. I’ll find you a copy of that book you were talking about with Hermione, no matter how much it costs. I’ll throw my name around if I have to, okay? And we’re going to do that again, properly. When I’m not your healer and you’re not hurting. I’m going to heal you now, you just—“ he stops, then, breathing wild and panicked.

Then, a small sob. A kiss to his forehead. Draco doesn’t remember closing his eyes.

“You just hold on, yeah? Don’t go anywhere.”

And Draco would cry if he had the strength, he would say yes to all those plans and more, but he focuses on the feeling of Harry’s magic sinking into his body like and he holds on, just like he was told to. He holds on, even if he doesn’t know exactly to what. And he thinks maybe he’ll get lucky again, and he’ll stop picturing himself dead like he’s been doing his whole life. Harry’s magic feels like love, like poetry, like cascading words of affection whispered into the space between his ribs, it feels like hope. And Draco holds on and thinks to himself, as loud as a thought can go, “I am not dying.”

#i may actual edit this and pop it on ao3?#i kind of like it?#thank you starry baby for this delicious prompt #warmup ficlets #drarry #m writes #angst with a happy ending #cw blood #cw injury #cw violence

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bangtancentricsblog · 3 years

Text

》 Unbeknownst to Jungkook, there is a rise in popularity for a particular human holiday, one of which leaves him blindsided and scrambling to find the absolute perfect gift for his one and only. They say food is the quickest way to a man’s heart but no one ever said it didn't work on women.

❒ pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

❒ genre: fluff, established relationship, a dash of angst, and a pinch of smut

❒ alternative universe: fantasy, college/university, werewolf, witch,

❒ rating: 18+

❒ word count: 12.4 k+

warnings/disclosures: werewolf Jungkook, witch MC, kinda tsundere mc, cat shifters Yoongi and Yoonji, Fairy Jimin, Siren Taehyung, MC is on the bigger side!, Merman Seokjin, Elf Hoseok, Vampire Namjoon, friendly fondling from yoonji, heteroflexible/bicurious yoonji, boob talk, mc is not good at cooking, misunderstanding on jungkook’s part, baking mishaps, frazzled jungkook, not so helpful/helpful yoongi, half-hearted frenemies Jungkook and Yoonji, Jungkook cries a little, yoonji jumping to conclusion, sense8 references, harry potter references, killing eve reference, way too many allusions to sex, jungkook isn't a good at baking, always reliable Seokjinnie, chubby POC Bunny shifter OC, whiney JK and MC, ‘rich’ jungkook, not edited i tried to i really did, taste testers Jimin and Taehyung, SMUT is at the end, bad smut at the end, food play (mostly them getting turned on by feeding each other), fingering (ew why do we call it that? Finger blast sounds better lmao), cock warming-ish, tiny hints of a size kink, grinding, soft fuck, soft spanking, sappy endings

❀ this is part of the bangtan pastries valentine collab hosted by the lovely @suhdays, who also made my lovely banner 💖 make sure to check out the other fics as well, they’re amazing as are the other authors and please excuse any incoherent inconsistencies or misspelling as this fic was written over a many days and long hours ❀

main ml • AO3

His nose is cold, a weird thing to think about when a werewolf's body temperature literally runs higher than every other species. There’s a chill racing up his spine as he shivers reaching a lazy arm across the bed in search of your warmth only to come up empty. Jungkook finally cracks an eye open, pushing himself into a sitting position to see if you really are missing or you’ve only scooted to the very edge of the bed to escape his scalding body temperature. Though to his displeasure you are in fact missing, he’s running his hand through his hair and taking a deep breath before scrunching his feature. His nose is still cold, so he can't smell much, can only feel the slight sting of the frigid air as he breathes it in.

He hates the winter, all he can ever smell is the damp ground and the cold of the air. Funnily enough most werewolves loved winter since it gave them a break from their heightened senses, not Jungkook though, he couldn't stand not being able to smell you on his bed, in your house, on him. Your shared bedroom is extra chilly this morning raising goosebumps along his exposed skin, he’s tired, not having gotten enough sleep from the long night of studying he’d done the night before.

You’re a naturally early riser so he knows why you’re up, Jungkook however isn't exactly a morning person, never has been, especially on the weekend when neither of you have anywhere to be. He’s groggy as he pads down the hallway, a yawn stretching his mouth wide, another shiver wracking his body the closer he gets to the back of the house, it’s always been chillier there, it’s downright brutal in the winter time.

He isn't surprised when he finally comes to stand in the doorframe of the sunroom watching your figure drop what he’s pretty sure is mugwort in the bubbling cauldron. There’s this sense of domesticity watching you work, a luxury he couldn't afford as the two of you grew up. He can almost vividly remember the ugly way you’d scowl at him when he’d plop down in front of you brandishing scraped up hands or knees. A soft almost unkind reminder that he should be more careful and that next time he came in you wouldn't treat his wounds. He remembers thinking you didn't like him, maybe even hated him, so after a while (more like into his teenage years) he just stopped showing up. So you would imagine his surprise when you’d finally cornered him after his abrupt disappearance. His lips tug upward at the memory of you clumsily confessing your feelings to him before running off, never giving him a chance to properly convey his own feelings.

It’s weird for Jungkook to think that he’d almost let you slip through his fingers, his dumb teenage werewolf hormones had told him to just let you be. That you weren’t even one of his kind, so you wouldn't be worth it. He’d been so close to letting you get away, so close to letting you leave the pack when he’d taken his precious time working through his natural instincts (at least the ones he had then). How he’d almost brushed off your confession because there was no way cold, stoic you liked him. Impossible he’d thought, and then a week after he’d overheard your parents asking permission for you to attend a school away from pack lands. Away from the pack, away from your family, and away from him. The very thought twisted his stomach unpleasantly, making him nauseous as he thought of everyday life without you.

It was then that he knew he couldn’t let that happen, something about you leaving didn't sit well in his being. He couldn’t describe it then, after all a sixteen year old only understood the bare minimum of love and life and he knew even less than that. Somewhere in his mind rushing to your house at that moment had made sense, more sense than anything had in the short amount of time he’d had to process the information. He probably should’ve knocked before rushing into your house, maybe also knocked instead of flinging your room door open the way he had. The grin he wears grows wider as he recalls what he’d seen all those years ago. The rest is history, at least the embarrassing parts that he refuses to acknowledge. He doesn’t regret the way your relationship had started, especially not after almost seven years of dating. Hell, he considers himself lucky that you even stuck around this long because truth be told Jungkook could be a handful, like now for example.

“Is that my sweater?” he asks, watching amusedly as you jump nearly spilling an entire vial of pixie dust. Your hand has gone to your chest to calm your racing heart as it beats harshly against your ribs, scowling as you think of how you hated that he was so light on his feet.

“I couldn't find an apron, and it’s cold.” you say rubbing at your nose with sweater pawed hands before sprinkling some of the pixie dust into the cauldron.

“Y’know I don't like when you brew in my clothes, the smell sticks for too long.” he sniffs, still only feeling the cold sting of the air.

“I know.” you mutter not once glancing in his direction, only reaching out to take a jar of snake venom from the array of ingredients lining the counter space beside you.

“What are you making anyways and on a Saturday?”

“Vitality potion, for extra credit.” he hums to himself content with just watching you finish up your work which really doesn't take long. You add a few drops of mint sighing contentedly while you put out the fire with a simple incantation. Jungkook watches as you rub at your eyes and easily close the distance between you, your arms wrap around his waist as you nuzzle into his chest relishing in his warmth. A muffled ‘m’tired’ slipping past your lips and tickling his chest where they press to his skin. He hums his reply, hands slipping down your sides pulling soft sighs from you as he slips them under the hem of your hoodie to press chilled hands to your warm hips.

You squeal, trying in vain to wriggle away from him as he muffles his laugh in your neck. He’s quick to pull your body close, before lifting you over his shoulder, hands gripping the soft flesh of your thighs to keep you steady. Your giggles are almost manic as you laugh all the way to the bedroom where he proceeds to take full advantage of this early Saturday morning.

Monday morning comes way too soon, and you’re once again seated at a table of your favorite on campus cafe. Though much like always Jungkook is being clingy, scenting your neck while you kill some time before your first class. The frappe you ordered sits untouched, the slush goodness melting into a mess of almost coffee flavored water. It’s a waste of money if you don't drink it now, although you’re also sure Jungkook will polish it off should you leave it be.

“Please stop making people uncomfortable.” you sigh, pressing a palm to his face to push him away before he can bury it back in your neck.

“I’m not making people uncomfortable.” he says with a confused furrow of his brow as he casts a glance around the cafe to catch these so called uncomfortable people. He doesn't see anyone other than a couple of baristas who refuse to make eye contact even with the way his gaze is burning holes into the side of their heads. You don't look the slightest bit amused as you narrow your eyes at him, waiting a beat then two only to realize he really doesn't know. Your heart skips a beat, ‘stupid heart’ you think as it continues to do so the longer he remains oblivious. It’s moments like this that make you think that being with Jungkook is like having a big dumb dog, except you absolutely adore the shit out of him, amongst other things.

He quirks his head the slightest as your brows pinch further together the longer you stare at him, further reminding you of his canine counterpart. There’s this flutter in your tummy, the butterflies that have long since taken residence awaken fluttering about and fanning a flame that is slowly growing, traveling to your face and warming your cheeks. Stupid heart, stupid butterlies, stupid Jungkook and his big stupid beautiful eyes, you curse mentally finally ripping your gaze away from his. It’s all a little too much, so your best course of action is going to class early, you decide standing and making to leave only for his grip on your hand to tighten, one that you had forgotten about.

“Gimme a kiss.” he says around a smirk, it heats your cheeks further as you work to calm the rapid beat of your stupid heart as it bangs against your ribs. You’re almost expecting for your chest to burst open or your heart to spontaneously combust. Luckily neither of those happen as Jungkook leans in close pressing a soft peck to your lips before moving to deepen it. He’s gentle in coaxing your lips apart, much better than your first kiss, taking his time tasting you as he always does...at first. He’s squeezing one of your tight clad thighs in his big hands, a sigh almost slipping past your lips as the warmth of his palm sinks through the material. You pull away abruptly, eyelids fluttering before blinking a few times to clear the sudden haze that clouds your vision. Next to you Jungkook is whining trying his hardest to pull you back in for another kiss, that sly dog.

“I’ll see you later.” you say pressing one last barely there kiss to the corner of his mouth, almost tripping over the threshold on your way out. His gaze follows your figure until you turn the corner disappearing from his sight. He sighs heavily, it’s laced with undertones of fatigue as he reaches for your unfinished frappe.

“You guys are gross.” Yoongi breathes, taking a seat opposite Jungkook. Jimin takes your seat, as Taehyung and Hoseok follow. Hoseok takes the empty seat beside Yoongi while Taehyung pulls up a chair from a neighboring table.

“You’re just jealous my girlfriend is hotter than yours.”

“Sure kid, you go ahead and believe that.” he almost sneers.

“Why are you here so early?” Jimin asks steering the conversation away from girlfriends for now. He’s yawning suddenly, reminded of how little sleep he’s gotten today, school was the worst.

“I came with ____, can’t have her coming all alone y’know.”

“Isn't your first class at the same time as her last?” Yoongi chimes in before asking Taehyung to get him an Americano as the younger man walks over to the counter.

“Yeah, and what?” he sniffs a little defensively.

“It was just a question.” Yoongi deadpans.

“Don’t you and your satan spawn of a twin share all your classes with ____?”

“No, we have classes together Tuesdays through thursdays.” he supplies easily, leaning back in the chair.

“Why not all week?” Hoseok asks in a tone filled with genuine curiosity.

“Monday and Fridays are the hardest days to get out of bed, duh.” he says almost matter of factly and they have to agree with Yoongi on this one. Monday is truly the worst day of the week, though it's now that Jungkook notices the absence of the previously mentioned satan’s spawn. He almost bristles, thinking that Yoonji might be out there somewhere harassing his sweet little girlfriend.

You scream, startled by the sudden weight that presses itself to you, a giggle like purr filling your ears before you relax. Yoonji’s hair brushes your cheeks softly, her arms wrapping around your frame and you squeak at the feel of her hand cupping your chest through the hoodie you wear. It’s a usual occurrence, though no less embarrassing as she continues to snuggle closer to you.

“Did your boobs get bigger?” she asks nose nudging against the soft pudge of your cheek, you know she’s scenting you, her way of messing with Jungkook later when she can’t physically be there.

“No, please stop.” you sigh, feeling a gentle squeeze followed by a soft breathy moan, heat erupting across your cheeks in embarrassment. She snickers giving your ample chest one last squeeze before finally moving away. She falls in step with you, walking along the path, snow crunching underfoot before moving to speak again.

“I’ve been meaning to ask, what exactly do you like about Jungkook? I mean sure he’s great, not really, and all but really what is it? Is it his dick game because other than you I don't really think he’s ever been with anyone else.” She asks stuffing her hands in her coat pockets to stave off the slight chill that has zapped all the warmth from her fingers. There’s a brief pause in her thoughts as she wonders if Jungkook uses your impressive rack as the natural hand warmers they are, the lucky bastard she thinks with a scowl.

“I don't know, all of him.”

“That’s too vague an answer, like if I were to ask him what do you think he’d say he likes about you?”

“That I’m just so cute.” you answer almost immediately hands cupping your cheeks as if to further prove that you are in fact cute. The scrunch to her nose is adorable, squishing her already delicate features, as you smile softly at her and she shrugs her shoulders.

“Not that cute, but to each their own I guess. I’ll see you later yeah?” she asks, turning on her heel to walk in the direction you had just come from.

“I’ll be there.” You call after her watching as she raises a single hand to show you she’d heard you.

Yoonji is sliding onto Hoseok’s lap with all the grace of the satan spawn she is, easily wrapping a single arm around his neck and taking a sip from your abandoned frappe. She hums around the straw gaze trained on Jungkook’s bewildered expression, it brings her immense pleasure to see him so distressed.

“Why are you here and what do you think you’re doing?” Jungkook asks, snatching the drink back.

“It was only a sip you’re overacting, besides it’s mostly water now anyways.” She scoffs feeling Hoseok wrap his arms tighter around her waist pulling her closer to him.

“You don’t understand, now my poor ____ has indirectly kissed you. She’s been tainted by your nasty germs, Hobi do something!” Jungkook whines cheeks flushing an unhealthy shade of red, it’s almost endearing how childlike that is of him.

“I don’t think I can do anything, since it’s already happened.” He replies easily long since used to antics and strange rivalry between his girlfriend and Jungkook. Yoonji licks her lips mischievously snickering before shooting a somewhat sultry gaze at Jungkook.

“Hmm, can I ask you something Junglebook?” she says.

“No, in fact I would very much enjoy it if you never spoke again. Yoongi how did the two of you share a womb?”

“I don't know, it just happened, what were you saying Yoonji?”

“It’s not my fault you prefer the fossil over there over me. I’m literally amazing, anyways what do you like about ____?” she asks, ignoring Yoongi’s muttering and the somewhat awkward silence that has settled over the table. Jungkook to his credit doesn't blow this out of proportion as he usually does, so she watches as he sits quietly hands wrapped around the cup. This time there’s a slow flush of color flooding his cheeks, it’s kind of cute in a weird ugly kind of way. It’s not like she found Jungkook particularly attractive, but she guesses she could, maybe if the boy next door was her type.

“I don’t know, she’s just really cute, she looks tiny compared to me, and I don't know, all of her?” the flush has spread to his neck and ears, a look she has to say she’s never witnessed before. Again cute in a gag her romcom kind of way, she would be sick if you hadn't already prepared her for his answer. She still fakes a gag either way destroying the warm bubble he’d created with all his mushy sappy feelings.

“You’re so lame, no wonder you didn't have friends in high school.” she laughs before planting a kiss to Hoseok’s cheek.

“You guys were my friends in high school.” he says, brows pinched together an ugly glare directed at Yoonji who has begun ignoring everyone, so that she can whisper to Hoseok.

“Ignoring Satan and the literal walking ball of sun, what are you doing for Valentine’s day?” Yoongi asks, sounding mildly irritated at the topic he himself has brought up.

“That’s like two weeks away, what does it have to do with us singles?” Jimin laughs resting his chin in an open palm.

“That doesn’t mean you can’t have plans.”

“Valentine’s day is for girls, and again I’m single what would that do?”

“What are you doing for Valentines day Jungkook?” Yoongi asks, turning his gaze to Jungkook who has sat silently from the start. The expression he wears is of confusion, brows pinched as if he were sitting in on a pack meeting full of boomers that didn't understand the world of today.

“Jungkook?” Jimin says catching Jungkook’s attention.

“What is that?” he asks timidly, again silence settles over the group all of them wearing a different expression. It’s broken by Yoonji who literally looks like the cat who ate the canary, it’s truly disgusting and he wishes he never has to see it again.

“Are you serious, you don't know what Valentine’s day is.” she snickers, a little too happily for Jungkook who remains just as confused as he had been before.

"Your girlfriend is human." Jimin says just as unhelpful.

"She's a witch, not a human." he reminds them.

“Witch still lands on the human side of the spectrum.” The conversation is going in circles, he thinks feeling irritation creep into him at the way they all continue to discuss your race.

“Can we please keep this conversation moving? What is Valentines day?” he asks, letting just a tiny bit of irritation seep into his tone.

“It’s a human holiday, made for couples to celebrate love.” Taehyung says, adding to the conversation for the first time this morning and suddenly reminding everyone of his presence. He shrugs off their stare, instead gathering his things and leaving them just as easily as he had joined the conversation.

“Why is a human holiday so important all of a sudden? It isn’t anything like the summer solstice right?” Yoonji looks more and more amused the longer they stay on the topic, lips curling upward into a smile that is both haunting and sort of breathtaking in a sinister steal your soul kind of way. He shivers, deciding then that he’ll pray to the moon goddess for Hoseok’s sanity.

“God you really are out of the loop, poor doggy.” Yoonji laughs sliding into the vacant chair but making sure it’s pressed as close to Hoseok as possible.

“Hoseok, please.” Jungkook breathes, maybe it’s the fatigue that is allowing Yoonji to annoy him quicker than usual or maybe she’s just testing his patience more than usual. Either way he’s distracted by Jimin clearing his throat, always playing the peacekeeper.

“You’re right, it isn't like the summer solstice but for some reason the girls like it. I think humans traditionally give chocolate, small gifts, or do other romantic couple things. This is usually the day most people confess feelings to someone, it’s actually really popular nowadays. I think even my parents celebrate valentine's day.” Jimin says the last bit more to himself than to the others.

“Wait, so do you guys give girls chocolate?” he asks, genuinely interested.

“No, I’ve had people give me friendship chocolate before.” Jungkook can’t seem to wrap his head around the whole chocolate thing at least not right now. Still he wonders if you would like to receive a gift from him. He listens intently as Yoongi and Hoseok talk about a course they’re taking seemingly having forgotten the prior conversation with the departure of Yoonji and Jimin who share an astronomy class.

He’s not forgotten about the conversation later that week while he sits on Jin's couch killing time before he goes home after all you texted him earlier saying that you’d be studying in the library and not to wait up. Jin had been filling him in on the show that’s been playing for the last two hours, one based on eight individuals who all share a birthday and somehow a weird mental connection. Truth be told Jungkook has been staring listlessly at the screen the colors long since blurred as his eyes have lost focus, hazy blobs moving this way and that. The sound has been drowned out almost as if the volume has been turned down while he thinks.

“- Riley to me is the least useful of the cluster, don’t you think?” Jin asks, Jungkook hums along not really hearing what his friend has said.

“Whispers isn’t really a bad guy, and neither is Rajan’s dad, right?” he says this time watching intently as Jungkook hums again leaning further into the couch.

“Jungkook, seriously you aren’t even watching it.”

“I am, Sun is in prison and Joongki must die.” he mutters, blinking a few times before turning his gaze to meet Jin’s.

“What’s wrong, if you’re tired you should go home and get some sleep.” Jin huffs leaning back into the recliner.

“Not tired, just thinking.” he says unconvincingly around a yawn that stretches his mouth a little too wide, suddenly reminding Jin of a lion. They sit in the relative silence for a brief moment, the sounds of another fight scene playing in the background drags Jin’s gaze back to the TV.

“What are you doing for valentines day?” he finally asks, he feels his lips twitch at the way Jin is quick to pause the show.

“Why? Are you going to tell me how much you love me?”

“No, it’s just my first time hearing about it.” he mumbles pouting slightly. Jin wonders how this boy was going to lead a pack when he’s such a child, then again he doesn’t understand werewolf hierarchy all too well.

“Are you planning to celebrate it?” Jungkook stills, once again wondering if you would be happy to receive chocolate as the others had mentioned.

“I don't know maybe, do you think ____ would like it?” Jin can hear the uncertainty in Jungkook’s voice, and for some odd reason he wants to laugh. He shouldn't because it’s rare for Jungkook to really share his feelings with someone that isn't you. Instead he asks himself the same question, would you be happy if Jungkook gave you a gift. It’s hard to imagine with you being reserved and all, but he thinks that you might, if it was behind closed doors in the safety of your own home.

“Yeah, I think she would.” And his answer is worth it he thinks as he watches the way Jungkook’s eyes twinkle with determination at the prospect of surprising you. When Jungkook goes home that night he spends a little too much time doing what he calls ‘research’ completely ignoring the course work that sits beside his laptop on his desk.

The weekend has come again and Jungkook is more than tired between school, and trying to find the best kind of gift he’s stumped and a little miserable. It had snowed again, covering the roads that had already been cleared, what’s more is that you have virtually moved into the library the last week. He’s seen less of you in the past week than he has his whole life, which just makes him more irritable as he drags himself out of bed, hoping, no, praying that you are home today. It’s Saturday after all, and you should be here in bed cuddling him, but you aren’t so he thinks you might be in the sunroom again brewing more potions. He finds it empty, not a single sign that you had been there at all by now he’s beginning to worry.

Slowly he pads back down the hall stopping briefly when he catches a soft almost muted sigh. He recognizes it almost instantly, his gaze falling to the couch as he rounds it to find you curled up underneath a thin lap blanket. You look so comfortable he doesn’t have the heart to move you, so instead he opts for something a little different. Jungkook is quick to leave returning with a heavier blanket and a pillow before he’s slipping his body into the tiny crevice you’ve left between your body and the back of the couch. He’s almost sighing at the way you unconsciously snuggle closer to his warm, he pulls you in closer, tucking your body as close to him as possible but also keeping you both comfortable in the limited space. His eyelids begin to flutter, the past weeks exhausting catching up with him now that he’s found ultimate comfort with you.

When Jungkook wakes again he’s on his back, his pinky finger just barely skimming the sliver of skin exposed by the way your shirt has ridden up. You’ve yet to awaken, brows furrowed in your sleep, your face relaxes when he nuzzles the crown of your head. He cherishes these quiet moments, not that he didn't all the others but these were his favorite. Enjoyed the naturalness of it all, like this you weren’t hiding from others, you weren’t reserved, you were just yourself and he liked that. He briefly wonders what time it might be, when he feels you begin to stur, it always starts off slow. You sigh softly a single puff of air leaving your nose, then you nuzzle into what would usually be your pillow but today it’s Jungkook’s chest, next comes the twitch of your fingers followed by the stretch of your arm, hand seeking the warmth that is usually Jungkook beside you. Instead your hands tangle in the softness of the blanket pulling it closer softly knocking him on the chin as you snuggle into the comfort.

“____, baby it’s time to get up.” he murmurs voice husky from disuse.

“Don’t wanna.”

“Gotta make us some breakfast.” he sighs feeling you shift further before you sit up, your eyes are half lidded, hair mused. The long sleeve your wear is slipping off one of your shoulders, you’re blinking sluggishly, gaze still unfocused but at least you're awake now. His hands find purchase on your thighs, squeezing them slightly so that your gaze meets his.

“You awake yet baby? Need some help?” he asks watching the way you frown down at him before shaking your head, rubbing at your eyes tiredly. His heart squeezes in his chest, a slow heat swirling low in his belly the longer you straddle him. You shift your weight as you stretch, back arched in a way that pulls his gaze to your chest, through the thin material he can make out the stiff peaks of your nipples. There’s a twitch of his fingers as he restrains himself from feeling the soft weight of them in his palms, but there are other things troubling him at the moment. Mostly the way he can feel the heat of your pussy through the thin material of panties as you settle more of your weight on his crotch.

“Breakfast?” you ask, the single word is enough to drag his thoughts back to something fluffy, something softer, less deprived. He squeezes at your thighs again sitting up to press a kiss to your cheek before sliding you off his lap and intertwining your fingers as you follow him to the bathroom.

Jungkook is humming as he sways at the stove chuckling as you squeeze your arms tighter around his waist when he stops swaying. It’s odd for you to be this openly affectionate, even here in the safety of your home mostly because he likes to take advantage of the situations persuading you to do things he would rather keep to himself. Still he can’t say he isn't enjoying himself, at least he was until he hears the door fly open and the telltale muttering of one Min insufferable Yoonji. Your grip tightens further as you press yourself closer almost as if you’re trying to hide from her, but that doesn't make sense, as much as he hates to admit it you two are super close.

“What are you doing?” she asks, and just her tone makes him pause.

“Making breakfast.” he replies before he hears a scoff.

“I wasn't talking to you Junglebook, ____ what are you doing, you were supposed to meet me three hours ago.” she sighs as you whine pathetically against Jungkook’s back rubbing your face into the soft material of his shirt.

“I can’t hear you.”

“M’tired, don't wanna go.” you cry and Jungkook feels heat rush to his cheeks at the tone you use, it reminds him of the way you sound when he’s balls deep in you. He really shouldn't be thinking of that, especially not with that thing you call your best friend around.

“This was your decision, I’m just there for moral support. Now let's go before I catch whatever disease Jungkook carries.” she sniffs, narrowing her eyes when you don’t budge.

“Can’t you at least let her eat breakfast before you drag her away?” Jungkook asks, moving the grilled cheese to the cooling rack glaring at Yoonji over his shoulder. She sighs heavily but silently agrees as she takes a seat at the kitchen island. He can hear the clicks of her keyboard as she typed something into her phone followed by the swoosh of her message being sent. Briefly, and just briefly he wondered who the hell would want to talk to her so damn early. Though he can’t really call afternoon early now can he.

You look sleepy when you’re finally ready to leave after having eaten your weight in bread, cheese, and butter, a look he absolutely adores. Yoonji is standing in the open door typing on her phone again, ignoring the flowery atmosphere that blankets the two of you like some cliche shoujo manga. The way you smile up at him makes his heart flutter, a pleasant wave of warm slowly makes its way through his body as you hug him and he’s planting a kiss to the crown of your head not so subtly scent marking you. It’s only when Yoonji makes an exasperated sound do you two pull away.

“See you later, be safe.” he says smiling in a way that makes your tummy flutter.

“I will.” you almost sigh before Yoonji glares at him once more and pulls you along. With you gone, he has nothing else to do than to look through the possible gifts options he’d bookmarked. There’s so many things to chose from, gourmet chocolates, edible arrangements, teddy bears, flowers, jewelry, spa days, sex? It’s all so much, he’s saved so many links it’s a folder that he’s pinned to his bookmarks bar on his search engine. Maybe he should ask for help, Yoonji wouldn’t help him even if he asked nicely while on his knees, but perhaps Yoongi and Seokjin would. He has to take that chance, and pray to the moon goddess that they’ll offer their insight.

“I can’t help you.” Yoongi says after Jungkook has gathered the most reliable of his friends.

“Why not?”

“Prior engagements, and this if your girlfriend. You should know what she’d like, let me know what you go with.” he says, wrapping his scarf tighter around his neck and leaving the oldest and the youngest together.

“Jin please tell me you’ll be more helpful than Yoongi.” he whines, and Seokjin takes pity on him because as much as he hates to say it, he looks like a kicked puppy.

“I can try but it really depends on what you think ____ would like the best.” Jungkook beams at Jin’s willingness to help even if he doesn’t promise anything. He’s quick to pull open his laptop, opening one too many links that have both their heads spinning. Jungkook’s because he’s just so excited to surprise you and Jin is mostly amazed at Jungkook’s thoughtfulness. He switches through tabs, scanning over the things Jungkook has chosen, truth be told he’s not sure if any material items would be any good. He also doesn't like the ridiculous price listed beside the edible arrangements and gourmet chocolates, absolutely gawks at the price next to the jewelry. It’s not like Seokjin doesn’t know what kind of family Jungkook comes from, sure werewolves were a dime a dozen but not Jungkook, he was from one of the founding packs and in being so he was more than well off and that came from a literal prince of the sea such as himself. Still he wonders what kind of craftsmanship could be worth that much, or did Jungkook not care about price? He wants to laugh at the sheer absurdity that is the younger and his lack of care for things such as this, but he supposes that was where he came in.

“What did you have in mind?” Jin asks hesitantly, almost dreading the conversation.

“I don’t know a little of everything.” Jungkook answers sheepishly.

“A bit of everything.” Jin repeats already appalled at the idea. “Maybe you should stick to one, how about flowers?”

“____, do you think she’ll like them?”

“I don't know, i’m sure she’ll be able to use them in her potions.”

“Nevermind, not flowers. Then maybe jewelry?”

“Does ____ wear jewelry?”

“Not really, she doesn’t like being too flashy.” he mumbles.

“What about chocolate?” Jin finally asks, skipping over all the other options for fear of prolonging this dreadful conversation.

“That’s perfect, I should order it right now.” he beams, reaching for the laptop in Seokjin’s grapes but coming up empty when Jin scoots away from him.

“Or, and this is just a thought, but why don’t you make it yourself?” it’s posed as a question, though to Jungkook it sounds more like a statement, a suggestion if you will. One that he doesn’t think sounds too bad after all how hard can making chocolate be? He smiles at Jin, in a way that lets Jin know that it’s finally over. But boy was he in for a trip.

Jungkook had dragged Jin to the closest supermarket, throwing every bar of chocolate into the cart that he could find, even including other ingredients. After the supermarket they’d gone to a craft store for silicone molds, he’d even stopped at a small variety store for what he called cuter molds, because the ones from the craft store were too plain. Truth be told Jin wasn’t too sure what Jungkook would do with all that he had purchased but he knew he’d find some adequate guinea pigs for Jungkook. The younger thanks him with a meal followed by a brief goodbye before heading home to start the process of chocolate making.

As it turns out chocolate making isn’t too hard, but there’s something unsatisfying about melting premade chocolate and filling molds. It’s okay Jungkook supposes as he demolds yet another batch of half strawberry half milk chocolate rilakkuma molds. There are a few more trays of chocolates, some have pocky others have nuts but he’s still dissatisfied paying no mind to them as he dumps the finished chocolates into a tupperware instead of the box he’s intended to pack them in. This was supposed to be a test run, a successful one if they asked him but one that left him thinking that it wouldn't be enough. He heaves a heavy sigh as he finishes pulling the chocolate from the molds, moving to seal the tupperware that held them.

He’s decided then as he’s stacking the containers in a canvas bag that he’s going to Jin’s again he needs more help, but before that he needs to clean up so that you won't come home to this mess. He also doesn't want to risk you finding out what he’s planned as a surprise, he’s so focused on the task at hand he doesn't hear the door. Much less the way you and Yoonji speak animatedly as you make your way further into the house.

“Jungkook what’s this?” you ask giggling the slightest as he flinches at the gentle hand you place on his shoulder. His shock is quickly replaced by something gentle, something that has your brow furrowing. Maybe it’s the way he widens his eyes as he turns his body to face you properly, he used to do this a lot when he was trying to hide something from you back when you were kids. This faux innocent look got him in more trouble than you can remember and you don't like it, especially now.

“Hey baby, I didn't know you’d be home so soon.” he says wrapping you up in a hug. You squirm in his hold trying in vain to get him to loosen his hold on you, which makes you all the more suspicious of what he might be hiding.

“Jungkook, please.” you murmur a little confused as he continues to evade your question from earlier.

“I’m going to Jin’s for a bit. I'll be back with some take out is that okay?” he says instead grabbing the bag and heading for the door. You stare after he’s gone, a little more than confused at what has just transpired.

“Is he going to bring enough for three?” Yoonji asks from her place on the couch the tv playing a reality show you don’t particularly enjoy.

“Why is Hermione always out of breath? It’s like she’s always on the brink of hyperventilating in every scene.” Yoongi asks as he sits beside Jin, a half confused half annoyed expression sitting pretty on his face. To his credit at least he isn't hyper analyzing other aspects of the film, ones that he knows are a lot more pressing than Hermione’s inability to catch her breath. So you would imagine how relieved he is to get the door after a series of knocks, even more relieved to see Jungkook if only for a moment. Jungkook to his credit doesn't look any less different than he did earlier in the day, in fact he looks normal? Maybe he should be worried that Jungkook looks significantly less excited than he was mere hours ago. Jungkook thrusts the bag at Jin before throwing his weight down on the couch beside a very amused Yoongi.

“What is this?” Jin asks, a little too hesitant before recognizing his ‘como se llama’ eco friendly bag.

“Chocolate.” he answers quickly but a little too quietly while Yoongi perks up at the prospect of free candy.

“I thought you said you didn't have my bag,” Jin says pulling out one too many containers “are these my tupperware?” Jungkook remains silent, gaze settled on the tv as Yoongi pulls open one of the tupperware.

“What’s with all the chocolate, kinda cutesy don’t you think?” Yoongi comments offhandedly popping a few pieces into his mouth with a hum.

“They were for ____.” Yoongi pauses mid chew, turning his attention to the younger.

“Why would you give us candy meant for your girlfriend?” he asks around a mouthful of strawberry chocolate hearts.

“It was practice, I didn’t wanna give her homemade chocolates after all.” he sighs, turning his gaze to Jin who still stands beside Yoongi who continues to eat the chocolate.

“Do you have a backup plan?” Jin’s gaze falls to Yoongi who posed the question, he’s glad he wasn't the one who asked. He watches in a weird mix of concern and amusement as Jungkook’s eyes glaze over before he whines.

“No,” he all but sobs looking up at Jin with a tremble to his lip “what if ____ hates me because i didn't give her anything.” It’s so hard to hold in his laughter, Jungkook was being a little dramatic.

“There are other things you can make besides chocolate y’know.” Yoongi sighs, setting the bowl on the coffee table and finally pausing the movie after all he really likes the scene where Harry realizes the patronus he saw was his own.

“Why not bake her something, there are plenty of pastries that use chocolate.” he offers, ignoring the way both Jungkook and Jin gawk at him.

“Is hell freezing over, are you actually offering to help?” Jin gasps a little too dramatically, it makes Yoongi scowl.

“No, you ugly I won't be helping but I might know someone who can.” beside him Jungkook makes a choking noise, one that has both of them casting their gaze in his direction.

“Thank you so much Yoongi, I’ll give you my first born.”

“Keep it, I’ll have enough of my own.” he says, scrunching his nose at the thought of Jungkook’s kids. Jin on the other hand is grumbling at the level of disrespect from a solid 8 when he was in fact a 10, a 10!

“Go home, I’ll text you the information later.” he sighs trying to pacify Jin who continues to list all that makes him a 10 and Yoongi an 8. He does as he’s told, trying his best to slip out so as not to be lumped in with Yoongi even though he was feeling grateful for his hyung. He feels his phone vibrate in his pocket and he’s scowling down at the sole message that lights up his screen.

my moon ♡

➣ don’t forget the takeout, plus extra Yoonji is here :)

He supposes he can deal with Satan just this once, he’s got a good feeling about this.

Jungkook is feeling overwhelmed to say the least, it’s Wednesday and he’s suddenly swamped with course work. To add insult to injury he hasn’t heard a single word from Yoongi who has also somehow gone missing for the last three days following their conversation over the weekend. He’s so tired he’s thinking of skipping his only class for tomorrow, what’s worse is that valentine's day is a week and a half away now and he’s still very much at square one. Luckily he’s at home so he’s free to let out a tear or two of pure frustration, he curses Yoongi for lying to him. What's worse was that he played nice with the she-demon too! Maybe he’s overreacting, there are worse things than not having giving you a gift for some stupid human holiday. Still though, he wanted to make this one memorable, even if it ended up being the only one you celebrated together. Hell you aren’t even here, he’s sure you’re doing it on purpose now.

How much extra credit could one person need, especially when you were one of the top students in your field. If push came to shove he would drag you back if he had too, but right now he just wants to curl up and pretend he didn't care about this stupid holiday. It would seem though that the universe won’t let him throw a pity party because as soon as his eyes fall shut there’s a knock at the door. He ignores it at first hoping it’s just one of his friends and they’ll leave if he doesn’t make a sound. He shouldn't have bet on it, when the knocks continue. It’s funny how urgent they sound, but really he just wants to be left alone. Still he groans, dragging himself off the couch and shuffling to the door with a scowl. The door swings open as he readies to spit nasty words at whoever has interrupted him only to catch a faint whiff of apples. His gaze falls to someone just a head shorter than him, a woman, one he doesn’t recognize.

“Can I help you?” he asks, feeling the chill of the air nip at his nose as he takes a deep breath, catching the scent of a prey shifter species.

“I um, well, are you um, are you Jungkook?” she asks, her gaze easily meeting anything else except his own as he stares. He’s sizing her up, not in a scummy way of course, how could he when he had you, but he doesn't recognize her at all. Nor does her scent smell familiar so he really can't place how he would know her.

“Yes, and you are?” he finally says watching as her nerves seem to settle the slightest, though her heart is still beating a little too loudly for his liking.

“I’m Bunny, Yoongi said you would be expecting me?” she offers up easily though it’s almost a whisper. His features twist into something of confusion, Yoongi said what now? That damned cat had gone MIA, surely this was a prank or something.

“How do you know Yoongi?” He asks instead, watching a shade of rose color the light olive of her cheeks.

“We’re dating.” she mumbles bashfully clenching her hands at her side. Suddenly he recalls pestering Yoongi into letting them meet his girlfriend, and the former almost immediately putting his foot down in a firm no. So really is he at fault he didn't recognize Yoongi’s girlfriend, someone he has never met, until today that is.

“Oh, you’re that Bunny!” he almost howls watching as she flinches at the sheer volume of it. It’s cute really, he takes back what he said about her not being as hot as you, though you will always be number one in his book.

“Yeah, did Yoongi not tell you that I would be here today?”

“I don't think so.” he answers easily, watching the way she scowls more to herself than him, as she pulls her phone out and presses it to her ear.

“You didn't tell him I would be here?” Bunny says after a brief moment. He can slightly hear what he assumes is Yoongi’s voice though it's more muffled than anything.

“But Yoonie you said you would tell him. No, I was on time. Are you sure you texted him? Yoongi! Okay, you owe me big time. Promise? Okay, love you.” she finishes hanging up with a sigh, the rose on her cheeks is darker bordering more on red now.

“Sorry about that, Yoongi was supposed to send you my schedule. He said you needed help with baking a pastry?” she says with a smile sweetly at him.

“Wait, you're the someone he knows?” she tilts her head slightly brows furrowed at his words.

“I guess I am, can I come in or is this a bad time?” He’s quick to step aside, showing her to the living room and offering her something to drink. It’s odd to be alone with another woman, one who is very much not single but still weird since he’s never done it before. It’s almost off putting, so much so he feels a growl building in his chest. He really shouldn't be so guarded, especially when she is harmless and seems to have no ill intentions. He’s placing a cup of tea before her taking the seat adjacent to her as she smiles warmly at him.

“So what did you have in mind?” she asks, not unkindly pulling a notepad from her bag and resting it in her lap while she waits for his answer.

“I’m not entirely sure, I just know it has to be something with chocolate.”

“That narrows it down a bit, do you want something more elegant or simplistic?”

“Simplistic, my girlfriend doesn’t like things that are too flashy.” he sighs thinking of you and the easy smile you give him when you're eating sweets. It eases his nerves the slightest, as Bunny takes note of this.

“This almost seems like a therapy session, what with you sitting here taking notes and all.” he says to break the gentle scritch scratch sound of her pen on paper. She pauses, a small hesitant smile on her lips as she moves to meet his gaze.

“Truth be told I’m a little nervous, you’re aura is a little intimidating.” she chuckles, grip tightening on her pen. He can see the reasoning behind her words after all werewolves very rarely interacted out of their species even amongst the supernatural.

“You shouldn’t be, I’m house trained after all.” he’s amused as a flurry of giggles flee her being, and she tries in vain to stifle them. After that she seems to relax, easy narrowing down their options to a devil's food cake or a chocolate tart. He likes the idea of a tart so it’s with a little glee that he makes his decision.

“I’ll be here tomorrow at the same time and we can get started.” she says as she gathers her belongings while he shows her out. He’s excited to say the least a little more than he was when he was with the chocolate. So he guesses that in the end Yoongi was a least a little helpful.

True to her word Bunny is at his door at the same time as the previous day and Jungkook is more than happy to let her in, even taking some of the shopping bags out of her hand. He isn’t quite sure how he’ll do, but he is confident in his ability to try. After her departure and a stressful amount of time spent doing school work you had come home, sans Yoonji of course and you’d cuddled before he’d made the two of you a light dinner. Even after he’d spent too many hours reading over a single chocolate tart recipe, so much so he probably knew it by heart.

“I brought enough ingredients to make room for trial and error. You don’t have to be good at it from the get go, just follow the recipe okay?” she says in a voice that is oddly calming, he wonders briefly if she uses it on Yoongi. He nods his head in confirmation tying an apron around his waist as she does the same. She’s quick to take the reins, directing him in the tasks, and helping him when he asks for it. She says that they’ll be working in pieces, cutting the recipe in half for now as she whisks the ice water and egg yolk while Jungkook mixes the dry ingredients with butter.

“Making the dough is easy, the baking part is what usually takes a while to get right. I’m sure you’ll do fine, after all Yoongi has told me you’re a great cook.” she offers still whisking the egg and water.

“This is actually my first time baking in a while, I’ve found that I’m not that good at it.” he laughs.

“Really, your girlfriend must be very special. It’s actually kind of romantic.” He offers her a smile as they move to the next step. As it turns out Bunny is a very good teacher, helpful and patient when Jungkook thinks he might’ve messed up the dough. He learns that she’s studying to be a preschool teacher, and that one day she hopes to have a litter of her own. A soft rouge settles on her cheeks after she had divulged that tidbit of information before she asks him what his course of study is and his dreams for the future. The dough is now chilling in the refrigerator as they wait, so he supposes he can indulge her if only a bit.

“I’m doing pack management, an easy degree for someone like me.”

“Yoongi said you were loaded and I didn't believe him, but i guess it’s true.” she laughs.

“I guess that’s one way to look at it, I just want to be a good Alpha.”

“How about pups? Do you want any?”

“Of course, I want a whole pack full of my pups. I just have to marry my mate first.” She seems to perk up at this, a smile splitting her features.

“Marriage, have you asked her yet?” she asks a little too giddy for his liking but he feels a blush color his cheeks regardless.

“Not yet, I don’t think it’s the right time.” She nods her head in understanding, before pressing him for any dirt he has on Yoongi. All in all the first lesson goes smoothly, well except for the fact that he over cooks one of the tart shells and burns the other. She reminds him that there is still room for improvement, which somehow settles his nerves. He agrees with her after all there are still nine days left before the 14th.

He manages to get the tart shell perfect seven days before valentine’s day, which means he has a week to learn how to make the filing and how to put it all together. He’s feeling a little more stressed than usual with midterms coming up and your virtual lack of presence over the last few days. Really he’s starting to wonder just what is keeping you away from home all these days especially when you easily redirect his attention any time he asks. Maybe he’s overthinking it, it could really just be school work. He’s hissing, as the knife he’s using to chop the semi sweet chocolate slices through his middle finger. Luckily for him Bunny is quick to usher him away from the island and towards the sink. She wraps a bandage around his cut offering him a rubber glove to cover his bandaged hand before she wipes down the blood that had leaked onto the counter.

“Are you okay?” she asks a little too hesitantly for someone who he has become quick friends with.

“Yeah, I was just stuck in my thoughts.”

“We can always take a break, we have time.” She reminds him again, moving to clean up before leaving him alone and saying that he deserves a break from not only school but baking too. With Bunny gone he has some time to himself, time to think, to cool down and let his rational mind take control of the rampant nasty thoughts rearing their ugly little heads. To his credit he’s never once thought that you would cheat on him, it just wasn't in your personality to do so. He knew that you wouldn’t, but he really can't help letting his head tell him otherwise. Still he would know if you were, his wolf would feel it and he’s yet to cause a commotion. He decides then that he’s overthinking it, there’s a high chance that you’re just off doing god knows what with Yoonji. He doesn’t like that either but it’s still better than what the little voice in his head is saying.

Five days from Valentine's Day, he and Bunny are making the filing for the tart. He’s once again chopping semi-sweet chocolate listening to her as she tells him the next step. She’s made the tart shells beforehand so it would be easier on him so as to relieve some of the pressure for a perfect tart. He’d thanked her for the consideration when she’d arrived, which led to now as he combined heavy cream, milk heating to a low simmer before he mixed in the chopped semi sweet chocolate. He added sugar and watched as Bunny beat the eggs needed to finish the filing. The only thing left to do was stir the eggs into the chocolate mixture before pouring it into the tart shell and baking it again. With a timer they set out to clean up, before Bunny excuses herself telling him to try the tart with some friends and if he needed any further help she was only a phone call away. With her departure he’s quick to call up Jimin and Taehyung asking them rather cryptically if they wanted to come over. To his surprise they showed up rather quickly and they brought Namjoon along.

“Smells good in here.” Jimin comments.

“Really good, what are you making?” Taehyung adds.

“Are you baking?” Namjoon asks, catching the attention of the other two.

“I am, don’t tell ____. I need you to taste test it for me.” he says quickly, moving to run his fingers through his hair as his nerves kick in again.

“Cool.” Taehyung laughs, throwing his weight down on the couch before turning the TV on to show with a female assassin who’s in love with a woman from MI6. Jungkook gnaws on his lip as he watches from the kitchen, silence falls over the four of them as they watch the events unfold on screen. Jungkook is surprised at Taehyung's choice, mostly because he very rarely enjoys anything the former recommends. Since he prefers shows he can use as background noise that he doesn't have to pay much attention to. But this one is good, it’s interesting enough he barely hears the timer go off. None of the others move, gaze trained on the show as the blonde assassin plays a prank on her retainer. He likes the relationship between the retainer and the assassin, in fact he likes them a lot more than the lady from mi6. The tart is warm in his oven mitted hand, and smells amazing if he does say so himself. The shell is golden brown and the filing looks just as beautiful as he’d seen in the pictures. But he’s still not in the clear just yet, he still needs his taste testers to give him the green light.

The nervous flutter of butterflies has returned, swirling in the low of his belly as he leaves the tart to cool. He’s gone back to gnawing on his lip, thoughts running rampant that maybe it won’t be good enough, perhaps Bunny had been lying to him, maybe this would be a disaster. He tastes blood, the skin of his inner lip torn open by all the anxious gnawing, he swipes his tongue over the wound letting the coppery taste linger the longer he sits in his pool of self imposed anxiousness. The sounds of the TV are muffled, the images blurring as his gaze grows unfocused the longer he sits and waits, there’s something about the waiting that gets to him. His gaze slowly falls to the tart as it cools to the side, his brows furrowing as he looks at it.

“Oh are you cutting it?” Jimin asks, gaze focused on Jungkook and the knife he holds in hand. He can barely manage a nod, watching just as silently as his friends crowd him at the counter as he cuts them all a slice. He doesn't wait for them to take a bite, watching his fork easily cut through the chocolate and the shell hearing the soft clink of the metal on ceramic. He slowly brings the fork to his lips, and when he finally takes a bite he almost weeps.

He wakes up to you snuggled into him, an arm and leg slung over his body to keep him close. To his surprise you don’t have anything to do that day you offer up when he asks what your plans for the day are. He tries to hide the way he freezes at your revelation, after all you’d both been busy leading up to today. Finally the holiday is here and he was ready to prepare your gift while you’re out but this has thrown him for a loop. He counts himself lucky that it’s a weekend before he shoots a text to Jin asking to borrow his kitchen and that he would be more than happy to offer compensation for said favor. Jin easily agrees, reminding him that if he wanted to use it he had to be there before five since he had a date. The real pain is having to leave you when he finally has you to himself, he has to physically force himself to leave you alone with a kiss on the cheek and a promise to be back early.

Time seems to fly by, because when he finally reaches Jin’s after what he thought was a quick trip to the supermarket the sun hangs lower in the sky than when he’d left. Jin greets him at the door, as he comes through bags in hand, before he rushes to the kitchen. To his surprise Namjoon is here, and he offers a small smile.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, taking note of the way Namjoon is dressed up.

“Jin and I have dates in the human realm, thought it’d be easier to catch a ride with him.” Namjoon says with a shrug.

“Aren’t you afraid of biting them?”

“You’d be surprised how many humans are into that.” Namjoon laughs, catching the look Jin gives him.

“Anyways, we have some time before we head out. I can help you if you need it.” Jin offers, tying an apron around his waist. Jungkook beams at the older, grateful for the help even though he’s determined to do all the work himself he’s more than happy his friends offer the help. The motions come easily, the dough and the filing are easy enough to do now after he has practiced. He makes a mental note to send Bunny a thank you gift and he supposes Yoongi too. Namjoon offers idle chit chat to fill the silence as he compliments the tart Jungkook had made all those days ago, saying how he’d been thinking about it often, he even goes far enough to say he would pay to have Jungkook make him one. The three of them laugh, Jin taking slight offence refusing to be upstaged by the youngest. Some odd hours later the tarts are done, one for you, one for Jin as thank you and one for Namjoon who looks more excited over the pastry than the date.

“Thanks for the tart, I hope she likes it.” Jin says as he locks his door leading Namjoon to his car. The drive home is a calming, classical music filling his ears as he lets his frenzied mind unwind. He thinks that he shouldn't be worried, he knows you and that is enough to finally calm the nervous flutter of butterflies in his tummy.

It would seem the butterflies have returned as Jungkook stands awkwardly on the porch, canvas bag in hand. His heart beats against his ribs too violently he’s afraid there’ll be bruising, he doesn’t think he’s ever been this nervous in his whole life, perhaps it’s the holiday, truly he isn’t quite sure. He recalls Jimin saying that Valentine’s Day was made to celebrate love, while Yoongi said it was capitalism but he liked the thought of celebrating love better. Jungkook was a sap like that, and what better way to celebrate love than to give you something that he’d worked hard to make to show you, his one and only how much you meant to him? It’s this thought that finally frees the butterflies, setting them free from the confines of his belly taking his nervousness with them. Still he takes a deep breath before he finally enters his home.

“Hey you’re here!” you beam at him from down the hall. He takes in the dress you wear, something loose and flowery but still form fitting enough it hugs all his favorite parts. His gaze however remains on the apron you wear, something frilly and cutesy he’s never seen before.

“I am, are you cooking?” he asks, unable to help the way his tone fluctuates the slightest on the last word. There’s this bashful smile spreading your lips, tugging them upward ever so slightly it makes his heart skip a beat.

“I am, come and sit I’m almost done.” he does as he’s told, taking in the absolutely decadent scent of food. You fuss over him, taking the bag from him and setting it gently on the counter. He’s seated at the table chin resting on an open palm watching you work. It’s nice he thinks, especially seeing you dressed up for something as simple as dinner. Still it’s a welcomed change, a sudden furrow settling on his brow as he remembers you aren’t a particularly good cook and as such usually refrain from doing so.

“Hey, where’d you learn to cook?” he asks.

“It was supposed to be a surprise, but if you must know I had Yoonji and Yoonji teach me how to make you something special.” you say shooting him a smirk over your shoulder, it stirs something in his belly something that he struggles to tamp down.

“Oh yeah, special occasion?” he teases with an easy smile.

“Just wanna spoil my man.”

“Hmm, lucky him, wonder where he’s at.” you gasp dramatically. Turning off the stove while pointing tongs at him.

“I do too, he’s very charming, cute smile, big, y'know all the things a girl likes?” she sighs as his cheeks pinken at the unexpected praise.

“You think I’m big?”

“Of course baby.” you simper, plating the food before cutting up the steak. He smirks as you saunter over placing the plate before him leaning up as you lean down to plant a soft kiss to his lips. He hums as you nibble at the skin of his lips, one of his hands moving to squeeze your hip before you pull away. You take your seat opposite of his, careful to remove the apron and setting it aside.

“Go ahead, dig in.” you say watching with rapt attention as he takes a bit of the steak and some greens. His gaze never leaves yours even as he takes a bite, letting the taste wash over his tongue. You smile so wide eyes sparkling as he groans, the savory bite of meat melts on his tongue, and he finally looks away.

“Oh god, what did they teach you?” he asks around a mouthful, quick to dig in as you giggle softly.

“Enough, Yoonji said you should be grateful she taught me well and that this was her one good deed for the year.” you laugh chewing the bite of steak. He nods his head, it seems he’ll be indebted to her.

“So this was the prior engagement Yoongi had mentioned.” he says more to himself than you.

“Hmm?”

“Nothing, this is really good. My compliments to the chef.” He loves the way you smile at his compliments. The rest of dinner goes by much the same, the two of you exchanging teasing words in between bites and soon enough you're doing the dishes. You’re drying them as Jungkook rinses, resting comfortably close to one another when you spot the canvas bag that Jungkook had come home with.

“What’s in the bag?” you ask turning to look up at him taking the last dish from him to dry it.

“What bag?”

“The one you came home with, what’s in it?” you ask again as you dry your hands. He turns to see the bag, and suddenly he’s reminded of the tart.

“Oh, you go sit on the couch, it's a surprise.” he says spinning you in the direction of the couch smacking your ass playfully when you don’t budge. You flinch slightly as the mild sting, moving towards to take a seat on the couch as he says. It’s not long before he’s settling beside you as you look down at his hands to see a single slice of chocolate tart topped with whipped cream. Your brows furrow, lips twitching as you fight a smile.

“I made this for you, happy valentine’s day.” he says bashfully, chuckling softly when your gaze shoots up to meet his.

“Jungkook, you didn’t have to.”

“But I wanted too, besides it’s mostly self indulgent.” he whispers leaning into you to slot his lips against yours. He breathes in your sigh, tilting his head the slightest to deepen the kiss relishing in the taste of you before he pulls away.

“You taste like steak.” you giggle while he simply rests his forehead against yours.

“Yeah, well then I’d say we taste the same.” He pecks you once, twice, three times sighing when he finally pulls away taking the fork and bringing up a small portion of the tart to your lips.

“Open up baby.” he breaths eyes half lidded watching intently as your lips part ever so slightly wrapping around the pastry teeth scraping over the fork to catch every last bit. The rich taste of the chocolate washes over your tongue. You moan slightly blinking sluggishly as you savor the taste of the creamy filling parting your lips for more. Jungkook's pants feel tight as he feeds you more, each bite you take is more painful as he finally lets his mind wander. Let’s himself think of all those nasty little things he’d been holding back for a little too long.

“Need you baby.” he breathes, moving to take your bottom lip between his teeth. You whimper softly pressing yourself closer to him as much as you can. He’s quick to set the plate aside pulling you onto his lap, pulling you down by the hips so you can feel him press against you right where you need him. He swallows you gasp as he gently thrusts his hips up into you, teeth nipping at your lip again because he just needs to feel you.

“Want you Kook, please.” you murmur against his lips as he slowly trails them to your jaw and neck. He hums hands squeezing your thighs with a muffled groan as he slides them under the hem of your skirt, finger slipping into the waistband of your panties and giving a swift tug.

“Want these off baby.” you nod eagerly shakily sliding off his lap to quickly pull them off as he rids himself of his pants and boxers. His hands find your thighs again, squeezing as he pulls you to straddle his lap once more. Your fingers knot themselves in his hair, tugging slightly to tilt his face up for another kiss, mewling as he slides his fingers through your folds spreading your slick and rubbing your clit in small tight circles. You buck your hips as heat swirls in your belly, sighing shakily as his fingers dip into your heat.

“So wet for me, how bad d’you want it?” he breathes, nuzzling your cheek as your fingers tighten in his hair.

“So bad, kook plea- oh!” you squeal as his sinks a finger further into you, pumping it slowly as he eases in a second finger in beside it basking in the way you clench around them whimpering as you drop your hips with every upward stroke of his fingers.

“That’s it baby, just a little more, don’t wanna hurt you.” he sighs feeling his cock twitch as he thinks about being buried in your warmth.

“Need you, please.” Your hips grind into his palm crying out as he pulls his fingers from your heat, soothing you with soft bites to your shoulders.

“Shh, I got you, s’okay, ready for me?” he asks, not really expecting an answer. He spreads your arousal as he gives his cock a few pumps before he lines himself up to your opening.

“Deep breath okay, yeah just like that.” It’s a tight fit as he slowly pushes into your warmth, you groan into his ear at the stretch, twitching as he buries himself deeper. There are tears in your eyes as you clench around his girth, crying out as he grinds your hips into his. You can't take it, can almost taste your release as he continues to grind your hips into his as he whispers soft praise into your skin. His grip on your hips loosens, breath ragged as you continue to grind down on him feeling your walls flutter around his length. Your panting broken incomprehensible words, one’s he recognizes easily as your plea for help. His palm comes down on your ass, the sharp smack accompanied by your gasp when he thrusts into you. He only manages a few pumps of his hips before you wail, clenching around his cock so tightly it almost pains him to just sit and let you ride out the wave of your orgasm. Your body has grown slack against him, head buried in his neck as he rubs at your back.

“Are you tapping out on me?” he chuckles into your skin grunting as you twitch in his lap, squeezing your thighs closer.

“Gimme a sec.” you murmur sleepily, lips ghosting over the mole on his neck. He’ll give you all the time you need because you won’t be sleeping tonight.

“Happy valentines day, baby.” he growls when he feels you begin to rock your hips easily lifting you both off the couch and making his way to your bedroom.

“I can't, it's too much.” You cry.

“It’s okay, just a little more.” Jungkook reassures you softly.

“P-please s’too much.” The sob that you let out is whiny, bordering on distressed. Yoonji’s cheeks heat the longer she stands in the hallway, maybe she should’ve announced her entrance instead of barging in. Perhaps if she did she wouldn’t have walked in on you and Jungkook fucking in the kitched.

“That’s it, good girl, that’s perfect.” he sighs followed by your whine, and so Yoonji decided she should just leave. After all there was no use in interrupting if it meant being scarred by the image of her friends mid fuck. She definitely didn't need to see Jungkook’s tiny weiner, gross she thinks closing the door as gently as she can and leaving them blissfully unaware of her accidental presence.

“I hate cutting onion.” you cry when Jungkook cups your face and plants a few kisses to your lips.

“I know baby, but you wanted to learn.” he laughs as you grumble to yourself and he sweeps you up into a hug.

“So should we move on?” he asks, watching you nod excitedly, he’s equally excited to see what the future holds. It may have taken some time and more than ten ounces of semi sweet chocolate but eventually Jungkook learned that you would be the sweetest thing in his life.

#jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jeongguk x reader #emm writes #an emm writes production #emms jungkook content #collab fic #x reader #bangtanedu #bangtanarmynet #heartsforbtsnet #tbh I might’ve dragged this on a little too much #this might be a clusterf*ck of a fic #long fic #mine writings #seriously I have no idea why it’s 12.4k #ah ranting in the tags as usual #read all the other fics they’re probably better than this #okay I’m done #hope you liked it and please excuse all the spelling mistakes

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jerkbitchidjitassbutt · 3 years

Text

It Was You (Part Two)

A/N: Jensen and Y/n are childhood best friends. When his agent informs him that his image could use some improvement for a role, will she help him? Or will her feelings get in the way?

Read Part One Here!

A holiday (Christmas centric) Jensen x Female!Reader Best Friends to Lovers series for @spnchristmasbingo. This chapter and others will fill the square of ‘fake dating’. Un-beta’d, so all mistakes are mine. Header created by me with images from Google. Chapter word count: 3284

Series Warnings: angst-ish at times (if you squint), but mostly all the fluff.

I consider this an AU, as Jensen is single in this fic. This is completely a work of fiction, and I wouldn’t want his reality to be any different, this is purely for entertainment.

Jensen returned home right around 3:30 and went to his place to grab the beer he’d promised Y/n before heading to her apartment, his mind still reeling from the conversation he’d had with Stacy.

Letting himself in, as he always did, Jensen called as soon as he stepped into the entryway, “Sweetheart? It’s me.”

When he entered, he found you lying on the couch with your arm covering your eyes, and soft sniffles were coming from your direction. You were huddled in a mess of blankets and tissues littered the floor surrounding you.

Jensen quickly set the beer on the counter and hurried to you, kneeling on the rug in front of your sofa and reaching towards you. “Hey… Y/n, what’s wrong?”

Pulling your arm away from your face, he was met with puffy, red eyes. You’d been crying.

“Oh, nothing.” You sniffed, wiping your eyes. “I just got dumped, is all.”

You quickly sat up as Jensen climbed onto your couch and pulled you into his arms. Honestly, it wasn’t that you were broken hearted in any way. Sure, Stephen had been nice and sweet, and you were sad to lose him in a way, but the tears were more for your own sorrow of no longer being with someone, which seemed to be more often than not lately.

“I just don’t understand. What is it about me that I can’t just be with someone?” You cried.

Jensen simply swayed you back and forth as you curled into his chest and crawled into his lap. After a few minutes, you wiped your eyes once again as he said, “You know, any guy would have to be crazy for letting you go.”

It was another little jab to the heart, but he wouldn’t know why. You straightened up and took a deep breath. Your head was beginning to hurt from crying, and at this point you needed that beer he brought over. Running your hands through your hair, as you sat on the edge of the couch, Jensen seemed to read your mind as he quickly got up and returned with an opened beer for you.

“Thanks, Jay.” You said, taking a long drink.

He bent down and kissed your head before retreating to your kitchen. Peering over the island, you saw him taking down pots and pans and grabbing ingredients out of your fridge.

“What are you doing?” you called, standing and bringing your beer with you, leaning on the counter and watching him move from one end to the other as he emptied the contents of his arms onto the countertop.

“Well, it may not be your mom’s recipe, but I’m going to make you some chili. I know you were probably really looking forward to it, and I’m not gonna’ to let you go hungry.”

“You don’t have to do that. I can still cook.” You objected, even though the thought was exhausting in itself.

Jensen turned to you and began to chop an onion after setting the pot on the stove, “Nope. You sit your cute butt right there and watch me work.” He replied with a wink.

Smiling, you sat at your kitchen island and tried to avoid being a back-seat chef and allowed him to take the reins. He was a great cook, so you didn’t mind letting him do so. It wasn’t long before he had you laughing and clutching your sides. Between the way he was dancing around the kitchen and cursing when he made a mess, your mind had been cleared and you were in a much better mood. The situation with Stephen sucked, sure, but it wasn’t the worst breakup you’d endured. You’d find the one, eventually.

Jensen made the cornbread and put it in the oven while the chili simmered and came to sit on the stool next to you, bumping your shoulder with his and swiping your beer to finish it.

Clearing his throat, he dared to ask, “So, do you want to talk about it?”

You grabbed the bottle back from him, if only to hold and begin peeling the label, needing to fidget with something in your hands, “It’s not a big deal, really. It’s not like I’m super upset about it. Honestly, you were right. Stephen wasn’t the most exciting person, and I don’t think we really meshed well. He was sweet and everything, but I knew it wasn’t going to work out. It’s more of the fact that I was dumped, again. If you’re not in love, it’s easy to get over. Your hearts not broken.”

“I know, sweetheart. Trust me.” Jensen said with a small sigh.

“Have you ever been heartbroken, Jay?” you asked in a whisper.

“You remember when Allie dumped me the summer before senior year?” he laughed. “You never left my side. That was more of a high school type heartbreak though. I don’t know if that was real, you know?”

“Yeah, I do. Really. I’m sad about Stephen, but not in a heartbreak type of way.”

“What about you?” Jensen asked.

“Hmm?”

“Have you, uh… have you ever had your heart broken?”

You stiffened in his hold and took a deep breath, “Once.”

“Really?” he probed. “Who was it? Was it Tyler?”

You snorted, “Tyler was in tenth grade, dude.”

“I know, but still. I’ll kick his ass. Or whoever it was.”

A nervous bubble caught in your throat. He didn’t know, and he shouldn’t. “It doesn’t matter. It’s in the past.”

“Well, again. They’re an idiot, whoever they are. Besides, you’ll always have me.”

You gave him a small smile, hoping to hide the pain that the memories brought with them.

Jensen draped his arm across your shoulders, allowing you to rest your head on his shoulder as you shook off the emotions from so long ago.

You continued, “He, um… he asked me about you, right before we had lunch. I don’t think he liked how close we are.”

Jensen pulled back a bit, an unreadable expression on his face, but you were quick to grab his hand and tug him back towards you, lacing your fingers with his, “but, I don’t care. I don’t want to be with anyone who can’t respect this friendship. We’ve been through everything together.”

With that, he smiled and squeezed your hand, bending his elbow so that you were almost in a headlock and he could plant his lips to your forehead. He lingered for a moment as you both sat, tangled in each other’s arms. He released your hand and ran his soothingly along your side before getting up to stir the chili.

It was true. You didn’t care who came along, Jensen would always be your best friend.

The two of you ate seated on your oversized sofa and watched Elf, a favorite of yours and Jensen’s, even if he wouldn’t admit it. Jensen was right – it wasn’t your mom’s chili, but it was damn good. Grabbing the last spoonful, you couldn’t help the moan that escaped as it landed on your tongue. Jensen’s eyes snapped to you, the sound making something within him stir.

Dropping the spoon in your bowl, you set it on the coffee table and leaned back, satisfied.

“That was amazing, dude. Remind me to tell you to cook more often.”

He laughed, grabbing your bowl and his and setting to work at the sink to load the dishwasher. You got up to help, but he snapped his fingers, making you sit back down with a grin.

“So, how was your meeting with Stacy today?”

He wiped his hands on the dish towel that hung on his shoulder after cutting of the sink, “Oh, uh…” he paused, looking down and busying himself with starting the dishwasher. “She brought me a script. It’s a different character, to say the least. A single dad who meets a small-town woman when he moves to a new place with his kids.”

“That’s interesting. What’d you think of it?”

“She’s going to send in my stuff, and we’ll see how that goes. I wouldn’t mind getting it… could be pretty cool.” He shrugged casually, but something in his expression told you he really wanted it. “It’s a really competitive part, though. A lot of interest, so she wants me to keep up my image.”

He returned to join you on the couch with a fresh beer, casually draping his legs across your lap as you asked, “What does that mean? You’ve got a good image. You’re not scandalous or anything.”

“Yeah, but I’m a ‘bachelor’.” He replied, using air quotes to indicate that Stacy used that term specifically. “She thinks I’d have a better shot at the part if I were in a relationship or something. Even threw around the idea of just finding someone to help me out for a bit so I could look like a committed man.” He huffed out a laugh at the ridiculous request.

You’d heard of some of the lengths agents would go through, but you could never imagine being asked to do something like that, even from your own. “You mean, like… a fake girlfriend?”

Leaning his back against the armrest, he stretched out as you scooted closer, with his knees coming to rest over your thighs and his legs extended as you both got comfortable. “Apparently, but I told her it was a bad idea. I wouldn’t feel right finding some random girl and selling a rouse.”

You nodded, your hands casually laying over his strong thighs, “That doesn’t sound like you, so yeah… I get how that could be hard.”

He sighed heavily before sipping his beer once more. Gruffly, he seemingly put the issue to bed for the time being, “Yeah, well you know how it is. If I get it, cool. If not, oh well. I’ll just keep up my appearances. Besides, I get to go to work with you every day now. Wouldn’t want to change that, right?” he nudged you with his foot, grinning at you.

Jensen had encouraged you to apply for a position on the show in season two and you were lucky enough to be considered. He’d been so excited that he’d flown you up from your shared hometown. Prior to that, you hadn’t seen him much since he moved to L.A. shortly after you’d both turned 18. The haunting memory of him driving away crept up as you studied his face, looking very much like the boy you’d always known but also the man he’d grown into. It’s in the past, you thought to yourself as you quelled the small amount of lingering feelings of that day.

You simply smiled back, finding yourself a bit lost in thought.

“Hey.” Jensen said, grabbing your attention. “You okay?”

“Oh, yeah. Just thinking.”

“About the Stephen thing?”

You realized in that moment that you hadn’t thought about Stephen since Jensen started cooking dinner. He’d done a great job of distracting you, but you also didn’t want him to know what you were thinking about. “Actually, no. I think you helped out a bit with that.”

A proud expression donned his features as he puffed his chest, obviously pleased that he completed his mission successfully. You chatted a bit more until you grabbed your tablet to do a bit of shopping and you both fell into a comfortable silence. You turned away to hide the item that you’d added to your cart, seeing as it was a little something extra for him. Pleased with the items you’d found for your family back home, and that they’d get to you before your flight in a few weeks, you placed your tablet on the coffee table before snuggling into Jensen’s side, who was enthralled with the animated Rudolph film playing on your TV. He was always a sucker for Christmas movies, though he might not confess that to anyone but you.

The stress of the day began to wear on you, and you soon found yourself drifting off. Between your comfy pajamas and Jensen’s heartbeat in your ear, you fell into a peaceful sleep.

You awoke the next morning to the sunrise shining faintly through the curtains adorning your living room windows, confused to find yourself in the room. With a sleepy mind, you slowly shifted as you began to stretch your limbs but froze slightly when you met resistance. Eyes widening, still heavy with sleep, you came to find yourself snuggled against Jensen’s chest with the blanket from the back of your couch draped over you both. Your back was towards the cushions as you lay on your side, tucked beneath his shoulder and curled into his body with legs tangled beneath you. He was on his back, his one arm securely wrapped around your shoulders and the other resting on his midsection and your forearm that was enclosed around his trim waist. As gently as you could, afraid he might wake, you tilted your head to gaze at his sleeping form. His face was peaceful as he slept, his mouth slightly open and his chest rising and falling in a soft rhythm.

Content to savor the moment, you allowed yourself to revel in the feeling of being in his arms and nestled a bit further into the blankets, finding the chill of the morning slightly eased from his body heat.

You awoke again a bit later, when the sun had settled high in the sky, roused by something feathering across your cheek.

Jensen’s velvety voice jogged your sleepy mind, “Y/n? You awake?”

His thumb was slowly caressing across the apples of your cheekbones, the touch sending a shockwave through every inch of your body and straight to your chest. When you opened your eyes, he was peering down at you still in his arms with so much emotion behind his eyes that you couldn’t quite read. He smiled warmly, his dimples, freckles, and crinkles all present in the light. He was looking at you with such adoration that it made your heart skip a beat.

“Morning, sweetheart.” Came his usual greeting, but you couldn’t help but shiver at the gruffness and tone, stealing a glance at his lips. “Did you sleep well?”

Tearing your eyes from his face, you stretched slightly, “I did. Very well, actually. You’re a nice pillow.”

He chuckled, his chest rumbling beneath your head, “Yeah, I guess I am. I was gonna move you to bed, but I didn’t want to wake you. And I’ll say, I was quite comfy myself.”

Jensen ran his hands up and down your side and back, almost as if it was second nature to do so, before he moved to sit up. You did so first, giving him the space to swing his legs over the edge of the couch and set to work at the coffee maker. Taking a moment to head to the bathroom and brush your teeth, you smiled finding him with your mug already at the windowsill.

“Thank you.” You said, picking it up and taking a seat across from him.

“Thank you for the sleepover.” He grinned, toasting towards you with his own cup.

After a few moments of chit chat about how happy you both were that the snow had lasted, you made you both breakfast and ate together at your kitchen island.

“So, what are you going to do about Stacy’s idea? Have you given it any more thought?” you asked around a mouthful of bacon.

“Actually, um… yeah. I have.”

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little disappointed that it sounded like he was considering her proposition of getting a girlfriend to help his image, but urged him continue none-the-less, “Oh, yeah?”

“I was—I was actually thinking about it this morning. What if—and you can totally say no—but what if you were my pretend girlfriend?” he proposed, looking toward you nervously.

Nearly choking on your breakfast, sure you’d heard him incorrectly, you stared at him in surprise, “Are you serious, Jay?”

“Well, it was just a thought, you know. The fans think I’m with you, anyway, considering they know how close we are and have always been. You’re all over my social media already and I get a ton of comments about you all the time. It would be a cute story, but I totally understand if that’s pushing things too far.”

Still in shock, you hardly registered the sip of coffee you’d taken before putting your mug back on the counter. Your arms and legs felt like Jell-O as he looked at you expectantly.

“Are you sure I’m the type of girl Stacy had in mind? I mean, you’re you ya know. I’m hardly a celebrity or anything and I don’t have a ton of clout. What would the story be?”

He perked up a bit, seemingly please that you were asking more questions. Maybe that meant you were considering it. “It might be good to play the childhood sweetheart angle, but this would only ever happen if you were 100% okay with it. I’d never do anything that would make you uncomfortable in any way. Then, maybe after a few months, we decide to just stay friends. We wouldn’t even need to necessarily announce it to the world or anything but getting people to talk wouldn’t hurt and we just wouldn’t correct the rumors.” He looked into your eyes and took your hand in his, “Y/n, I swear… if it’s too much you can call me crazy and it’ll be no hard feelings whatsoever. No job or role would ever be enough that I’d jeopardize anything with you. It was really just an idea that I had, and it can be shot back out into the abyss and we can forget it ever came up.”

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, considering his proposition. It wouldn’t be so hard to fake it for a bit, would it? It’s not like much would change. You were already always together, and yeah, people had been speculating about the two of you for years, especially when you started working on set. “What about our families, Jay? What would we tell them?”

He considered your point for a moment. Both sets of parents had been friends for more than thirty years and would no doubt be aware of the rumors once they started, but again that wasn’t anything new. They’d been answering the same questions about you as a pair since you were kids. “We can tell them we’re together, or not. It would be whatever you choose, but we can always keep things vague for a while. We can even chat with Stacy together and see what would be needed, but it’s all totally up to you.”

Running it through your mind in that moment, it didn’t seem much different than what you and Jensen already were – best friends that everyone, everyone speculated about. Giving Jensen the opportunity to appear he had settled down wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, would it?

With a hint of a smile, you nodded, “Okay.”

“Wait, really?” he said, an obvious shock written across his face.

“Yeah… I mean it’s like you said. Not much would be different anyways, right? We can meet with Stacy, for sure, but it’s alright with me.”

He pulled you in for a tight hug, “You’re seriously the best, sweetheart. Don’t worry, I’m going to treat you like the queen you are for as long as this goes on. You’re gonna get spoiled.”

“Well, then…” you teased, patting his back as he kept you in his arms, “At least I’m getting something out of the deal.”

“Oh, trust me, Y/n. I’ll make sure it’s worth your while.”

Suddenly, you thought maybe this wasn’t the best idea after all, given the way your blood began to rush as he shot you a wink.

To be continued...

................................................................................................................................

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beansbeware · 3 years

Text

Beans’ Bagginshield Recs

Here it is! My first rec list eight years since I first started shipping Bagginshield. When this lockdown started (and ended and started again) I found myself re-reading OG/classics and discovering new ones. Sifting through my AO3 history I realized I have read and already forgotten so much fic over the years. For a while, I though the ship had run its course but as we can see now, Bagginshield lives! Check back for updates as I discover (and remember) more fics. Pay attention to the tags and trigger warnings!

I Sang In My Chains Like The Sea by orphan_account for lincesque, IronPanda

In which Bilbo is a Jaeger pilot candidate, and Middle Earth stands on the brink of destruction. (Pacific Rim AU) [Wasn’t sure how this one worked but man it did]

At the Turn of the Year by northerntrash

They say that strange things live in the woods, fair folk and things more spirit than man; don't step between the old oaks, parents mutter to their children, or they might find you, and eat you. Thorin never believed that, but now winter is settling into his bones, the shadows are growing longer through the hoar frost, and he is lost among the trees.

And it was there that Thorin met him, that strange, laughing creature, walking barefoot through the bracken.

Canon-ish

Homeward Bound by perkynurples for 61Below

His life slips away from him on an elven boat carrying him overseas, and there is one last journey Bilbo Baggins must take if he truly means to arrive home.

Sansûkh by determamfidd

The battle was over, and Thorin Oakenshield awoke, naked and shivering, in the Halls of his Ancestors.

The novelty of being dead fades quickly, and watching over his companions soon fills him with grief and guilt. Oddly, a faint flicker of hope arises in the form of his youngest kinsman, a Dwarf of Durin's line with bright red hair.

(Follows the story of the War of the Ring).

The Great Shire Conspiracy by Avelera for Emsiecat

Ten years later, Bilbo can't even go to the Green Dragon without a dwarven tourist buying him a beer and sobbing over Bilbo's great tragic love affair with Thorin Oakenshield. Which would all be quite touching and heartbreaking, if not for one little thing...

Dark (generally not a fan but this one made the cut)

Pain-Bearer by lilithiumwords (unfinished)

In an alternate reality, Erebor was never taken by Smaug, and the War of Dwarves and Orcs never happened. The Orcs invaded the Shire, slaughtering hundreds and taking countless more as slaves. Bilbo is slave to Azog, the Dwarf King's mortal enemy... until the Dwarf King rescues him.

Dwarves! in the Shire

Selling to Hobbits by HildyJ

Exiled from his kingdom and living on the mercy of others, Thorin is determined to make his own way in the world for him and his family. And the annual Summer Fair in Hobbiton sounds like the best place to sell enough of his crafted goods to do just that.

Oak and Mistletoe by HildyJ (series)

After a life dominated by a strange form of sickness, Thorin is sent to the Shire to seek a cure only Bilbo Baggins can offer.

Erebor - Nope, Never Fell

A Most Sensible Idea by HildyJ

Bilbo Baggins isn't sure about this. Not one bit.

Frodo is definitely too young to enter into an arranged marriage with a dwarven king called Thorin Oakenshield. It's a good thing that Bilbo is there to chaperone him through their courtship.

After all, there's no chance that a fussy hobbit bachelor would ever catch the eye of a king.

Signs and Meanings by HildyJ

It shouldn't matter to Thorin that the visiting hobbit cook doesn't speak his language. But it does.

Per Aspera by northerntrash

Deep in the dungeons of the Kingdom of Erebor, in an old, unused storeroom, lived a Hobbit.

In which Bilbo Baggins, a strangely successful thief, makes a mistake, and meets a Prince.

Erebor - Rebuilding

Mother-Tongue by northerntrash for HildyJ

Forget-me-not: a small flower, with four petals, which are normally found in shades of blue with a pink or white centre. These are traditional flowers of intent in the Shire, used to express true love, and remembrance.

In which Bilbo plans to leave Erebor, and Thorin tries to understand why.

Previous Engagements by Lunarflare14

After the Battle of Five Armies Thorin and Company have a new task: rebuilding their reclaimed home. Suddenly Bilbo finds himself up to his ears in responsibility and he surprises himself with how well he can navigate negotiations with elf dignitaries, farmers in Dale, and a dwarf king who has patience for neither.

But as Spring approaches a caravan from the Blue mountains brings something everyone had nearly forgotten: the dwarf woman Thorin promised his hand to many years ago.

Which is fine. It's all fine. It wasn't like Bilbo was falling in love with the king or anything.

That would be tragic.

And I'm Your Lionheart by Lee_Whimsy

Bilbo lingers in Erebor while Thorin recovers from his wounds, and soon finds himself caught up in politics, romance, and the occasional kidnapping. Ensemble cast. AU. Eventually Thorin/Bilbo.

Fix-Its (Gawd we need them)

An Expected Journey by MarieJacquelyn

For years Bilbo has written about his adventures and told stories about his dealings with dwarves and dragons. To most it seemed like fanciful nonsense but to Bilbo it was all very real. A weight followed him home from his travels, one called regret. Now in his final moments Bilbo has a choice to make – go quietly into death’s embrace or go back again and face all the fear and pain for the chance to make things right?

Of course, change is a fickle thing and not everything can be done again as Bilbo is about to find out. In the end, it may not only be salvation that he’s fighting for.

though the stars walk backward by baggvinshield, killaidanturner

Bilbo wakes, always in Erebor, with dark shadows to one side and the first light of a terrible dawn to the other.

An Expected Journey by MarieJacquelyn

Of course, change is a fickle thing and not everything can be done again as Bilbo is about to find out. In the end, it may not only be salvation that he’s fighting for.

Over Your Shoulder by northerntrash

The battle is over, and the lost have been counted. There is too much death, too much blood, and in the middle of it sits one small Hobbit, left quite alone but for a body on the ground and the memory of what might have been. But he is a tenacious creature, and if there is one thing that he has learnt, it is not to give up hope.

In which Bilbo Baggins goes on one last journey, and doesn't come back alone.

Historical Setting

The Ghost And Mr Baggins by perkynurples

They say that everything can be cured by saltwater - sweat, tears or the sea. Bilbo Baggins chooses the last option, taking his recently orphaned nephew and moving to the charming Oak Cottage, overlooking England’s grislier shores. The house charms him instantly, and though he knows nothing at all about the sea, or about making ends meet on his own so far from everything he’s known his whole life for that matter, he’s quite determined to stay, and see his nephew get better, odd sounds in the night be damned. He’s living in a modern world, after all, and the nonsense he’s been hearing about the house being haunted by its former owner, the mysterious Captain Durin, is just silly superstition… isn’t it?

Hobbit! Thorin

I've Grown a Hedge Around My Heart by pibroch (littleblackdog)

Thorin Brandybuck, just recently come of age, still lives in his family’s smial in Buckland, with his parents and two younger siblings. Thorin is an odd duck amongst his relations and neighbours-- unsociable, grumpy, shy, and awkward. And beyond that, he looks rather strange even for a Bucklander, strongly favouring the thick, dark haired build of his Stoorish blood.

It defies all sense and reason why Bilbo Baggins, an exemplar of all the respectable traits Thorin lacked, would ever desire a friendship with him.

Bilbo, as Thorin discovers, is not always as sensible as he appears.

Marriage (or something like it)

An Unexpected Proposal by Eareniel

As Bilbo sat smoking in his empty hobbit hole, he couldn’t help but wonder – when did his life become so boring? Or better yet – when did his old life stop being enough?

He suspected the answer to that question lay somewhere around the time when he had refused Thorin Oakenshield’s offer of marriage.

Something Blue by Lapin

Thorin marries Bilbo after the Battle of Five Armies, a marriage of convenience, not love. Slowly, they must come to make the best of it, Bilbo resolves. After all, he's a Hobbit. They make the best of things.

Magical/Super Powers

On Adventures and Other Forms of Conduct Unbecoming of a Wizard by manic_intent for beingevil

For as long as even the old Gaffer could remember there had been a wizard living in the hill at Bag End, overlooking the Shire. As wizards went, this one wasn't the wandering sort, always out to lure gentle folk out onto nasty adventures, or even the powerful kind, the sort that lived in high towers, reaching out into the ways of the world.

Modern Setting

Old Stone, New Fires by northerntrash

Bilbo was not sure what he had expected when he had agreed to supervise the restoration of Erebor House, on the lonely tidal island in the North sea, but it was not this. The winters up here are cold and harsh, and there is a strange feeling on the air, thick with the brine of the sea and secrets to which he is not privy; there is some part of the long and troubled history of the place that has not been spoken of, a shadow between the broken family gravestones and the caves beneath the cliffs, dark and dangerous.

Perhaps it is all in Bilbo’s mind, but as the nights grow longer, he starts to doubt it, and as Thorin sinks ever deeper into black and incalculable moods, he will have to find what has been lost, before it takes them all.

For This by northerntrash

Thorin Durin had lived in his new flat for approximately eighty four minutes when things started to go terribly, terribly wrong. The wrongness came in the form of a package, delivered to his door, wrapped in brown paper and string, with a small tag wishing him a very sincere welcome to the building.

Nothing Gold Can Stay by perkynurples

Bilbo Baggins led a rather peaceful life, thank you very much, until an old acquaintance decided to turn it upside down, and he found himself agreeing to take a job that’s… let’s say not exactly up his alley, and might eventually cost him a little more than his treasured cozy lifestyle. Who would have thought tutoring a slightly menacing monarch’s more than slightly overbearing nephew could prove to be such an adventure?

Love-In-Idleness by perkynurples

Taking Bilbo Baggins, a successful movie actor who is only just getting used to the perks and intricacies of becoming A Face People Want To See, and putting him together with Thorin Oakenshield, with his very traditional (read: slightly backwards) ideas about what constitutes Real Art and Real Talent, might very well be viewed as just some clothead’s idea of a joke. But there are jokes, and then there are carefully calculated risks the size of controversial reproductions of classic Shakespearean plays - for Bilbo, it is the chance of a lifetime to prove himself to all those who have ever deemed him too one-dimensional to even attempt stage, while Thorin has the opportunity to get out of the rut that’s been hindering his career for so long now, and shine in a role worthy of his talent once again. That is if the two learn how to share the same space for more than ten minutes without wanting to tear each other’s hair out. The course of true love never did run smooth, after all…

If There Were Water by stickman

Bilbo Baggins might be in over his head. He’s purchased an old stone house atop a hill overlooking a city he doesn’t know, and plans to live quietly, largely ignoring the rest of the world. But it’s early April, the rainy season, and the roof leaks, and there's something strange about Bywater House that he can't quite figure out.

Thorin Oakenshield is in his fourth month of trying to reconcile his own grief with his failures at anything remotely resembling a competent single parent, living out of a shoebox flat with Fíli (seven, sullen, and stubborn as hell) and Kíli (five, resilient but cracking), working crap jobs and hating everything including himself.

Under the cover of rainy afternoons and sleepless nights, roof repairs and building restoration, Bilbo and Thorin try to figure out how one navigates isolation, and how one breaks out of it. Every step they manage to take forward finds them dragged back again; every question asked has too many answers, or too few. This is a story about living in a world where everyone is on their own, always, and how things go on.

How the West Was Won and Where It Got Us by stickman

Bilbo is a harried 1st year British literature Ph.D. (early 20th century fiction) who happens to have an interest in spatial narrative structures, a lack of time-management skills, and a tiny apartment with a lot of books and very little furniture. He’s stressed, always, and doesn't quite know where he belongs. He tells himself that really, this is, in fact, what he wants to be doing. But sometimes, as much as he loves books, he gets an urge to do something with his hands.

Thorin is a disgruntled M.Arch. 1 in his last year who can’t be arsed to shave and frightens his students, and, frankly, his profs, but his work is top-notch so no one can really say much. They can, however, bully him into running a hands-on design workshop on Saturday mornings, which is complete crap, because he’s used to drinking his Friday nights into oblivion so showing up at Milstein at 7:45 the next morning and trying to teach in a room of wall-to-wall windows as the sun rises is not at the top of his list. Besides, no one ever shows up.

Except one morning, someone does.

The Boy You Met (At The Coin Laundry) by Lee_Whimsy

Bilbo accidentally spends a summer in Ireland. One rainy day, Thorin appears in the hotel laundry room, naked and dripping wet and about to propose. (But not, unfortunately, to Bilbo.)

Gandalf, Thranduil, and a handful of Spanish footballers all guest-star.

Hooked On You by Chamelaucium

Thorin should have learnt not to trust his brother and sister by now.

Come with us on holiday, they’d said. It’ll be fun, they’d said. A nice break from work.

Yeah right. All this holiday had brought him was being knocked around the head, acute hay-fever, and the biggest, most ridiculous crush ever on the cute, golden-haired fishing instructor.

One-Sided Conversations by northerntrash

"Thank you for listening," Thorin said, getting to his feet. "I hope to be able to return the favour, one day."

The man on the bed didn't respond, but since he'd been in a coma for longer than Thorin had known him, that wasn't entirely surprising.

“One”/Soulmates

you lick your lips (you taste like years of being alone) by perkynurples for stopchasingflowers

Thorin Oakenshield was born without the longing, and has spent his whole life merely observing others as they pursued a feeling unknown to him until they finally found their One. He has made his peace with the prospect of being alone, and has been faring well enough, but little does he know the fates have a different story in store for him.

Things We Grow Together by serenbach

Dwarves are born with a bone-deep knowledge of their One, but Thorin stops feeling the pull of his after the dragon attacks Erebor. Needless to say, he is surprised, and not initially pleased, to find his One living behind a round green door decades later.

Hobbits find a seed that represents their innermost self and can offer it to someone else to plant. This creates a bond as strong as deep roots in the earth between them. It is just like Bilbo, after years of thinking that no one would want his, to offer his soul-seed to a dwarf that does not understand gardening metaphors.

But just because they have found each other does not make the quest to reclaim Erebor any easier, and in the end a sacrifice is still made.

Thorin has to trust in the strength of the bond between himself and his One, because otherwise he will never believe that the sacrifice was worth it.

Colour-struck by northerntrash

Soul mates are like adventures, Bilbo had often consoled himself. Nasty, disturbing, uncomfortable things that made you late for dinner. It was no great hardship that he had never met his, even if he couldn't tell which of his petunias were blue and which were purple.

Quest-ions

Discovering Mr Baggins by Eareniel

The story of a Hobbit, told through the eyes of the dwarves.

Thorin Oakenshield's Majestic Diary by Fruitsie

Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain and Totally Majestic Badass of Middle Earth, does not have a raging hard-on for Bilbo Baggins.

No, seriously.

Just read his diary.

Call You Home by northerntrash

In which the Company are entirely too nosy about matters that are supposed to be a secret, and Bilbo learns that being concerned about propriety is overrated when you could be making friends instead.

Time Travel (because walking Middle Earth is not enough)

Of an Arcane Binding by Salvia_G

An inexplicable magic ties Bilbo Baggins, hobbit of the Shire, to Thorin, dwarven prince of Erebor

#bagginshield #thorin x bilbo #the hobbit #fic rec #bilbo baggins #thorin oakenshield

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bonjour-rainycity · 3 years

Text

Double Heart | Chapter Thirteen ~ Cosima

|previous part|

Pairing: Haldir x OFC

Rating: PG-13

Word count: 3460

Warnings: TW -- Mentions of death and grief

**Read on Ao3 under the user “bonjour_rainycity” if you prefer!**

A/n Thank you for all your comments!!! I worked all weekend and it was such a joy to come home and be able to read them and answer them <3

Thanks to my reasonable-ish bedtime, I rise with the sun. Turns out mornings in Imladris are quite nice — the household has a lively bustle to it. I get ready for the day and make it downstairs in time for breakfast. On my way through the hallway, I hear a chipper voice calling my name.

I turn around, seeing the long, dark, coils of Lavandil’s hair bouncing as she jogs to catch up with me.

“Look who’s awake early today,” she teases, falling into step beside me. “No more late nights?”

I roll my eyes. Evidently, Rumil has created for himself an ally. “You should’ve seen me on the road — I was up at dawn with the rest of them.”

She smiles cheekily, brushing a curl away from her face. “So it seems there is a common denominator in your motivation for sacrificing sleep.”

I gape, my shortcutting brain keeping me from formulating a satisfactory retort.

Lavandil just smirks, strutting along beside me. After a moment of silence, she hesitates, then shoves her arm in the crook of my elbow, linking our arms together. I blink at her in surprise. She grins, setting her shoulders. “I’ve visited human settlements before and I always saw the ladies walk like this. It seems rather silly — if one were to fall, wouldn’t the other go down with them? Especially with how clumsy humans can be—” A look of horror comes over her face and she halts, pulling me to a stop with her. “No, I didn’t mean to say that you—”

I chuckle, putting this elleth who is quickly becoming my friend out of her misery. “Don’t worry, I didn’t take it that way. And you’re not exactly wrong, either. I would definitely venture to say that elves are more coordinated than humans.” But this reminder of yet another difference between myself and my companions makes me sad, so I hurry to switch topics. “But you don’t have to walk like this if you don’t want to. I know elves prefer differently.”

Lavandil tilts her head to the side, a guilty smile stretching her lips. “Well, perhaps I am trying to butter you up. I have a favor to ask.”

I shake my head, laughing softly. “Yes?”

We stop outside of the dining hall archway and she turns to me, looking down on me with pleading eyes. “I own a shop in the market square — I sell the things I weave — and with all the travelers visiting Imladris, it is becoming difficult this season to make the goods and run the shop. My friend who usually works with me is in Eryn Galen this year, and while I’ve been managing—Orophin has been a great help—I know Haldir will be counting on him when it’s time to train the guards. So I was wondering, if you weren’t too busy…would you join me in the shop a couple days a week? I can teach you how to weave if you want, and I would pay you of course, and it’s really not too difficult, you just help customers choose their items and accept either money or an exchange and—”

I smile, elated that she would trust me enough to ask me to aid with her business. “Of course I’ll help! I’m so glad you asked.”

She beams and shoots into a rapid-fire account of everything I need to know about her shop. I try to keep up, but we enter the dining hall and the smell of breakfast hits my nose, so I very quickly get distracted.

Lavandil leads me towards the back of the dining hall. We see Baranor sitting at a table distractedly searching for the food on his plate with his nose buried in a book. Lavandil and I join him.

“Good morning,” I greet.

He hums, not looking up from his book. Lavandil and I exchange looks.

I grin at her, an idea taking form, and add food to my plate as I speak to Baranor. “Do you mean to be eating a worm? Is it an Elvish delicacy?”

He mumbles something incoherent, squinting in mild confusion. Then, his brow furrows and he shakes his head, throwing his fork down with a muffled yelp.

I can’t help it — I laugh loudly, turning heads in my direction. Lavandil joins, but hers are much more controlled. I try to quiet my giggles, but it’s difficult under Baranor’s stern gaze.

“That wasn’t funny.”

I shrug. “Sure it was.”

Lavandil nods emphatically. “What are you reading?”

Baranor begrudgingly closes his book. “A collection of research into the evolution of human healing capabilities. It’s an interesting read, if a bit rudimentary.”

I purse my lips, eyeing the book. “So humans and elves heal differently?”

He blinks, looking perplexed. “Of course.”

I take a bite of my scrambled eggs. Just another difference between us.

Movement at the front of the hall catches my eye and I smile, waving at Haldir and Rumil. The latter grins and returns the gesture, elbowing his brother’s ribs before striding in our direction. I pull my plate and glass closer to me to allow them room to sit at the small round table.

“Good morning, ladies, Baranor, how are you today,” Rumil questions cheerfully.

I quirk an eyebrow. “You’re not usually so chipper before breakfast.”

“Says the woman who slept until afternoon.”

“One time,” I quip.

Haldir takes a sip of his drink and smoothly changes the subject. “How were your lessons?”

From the corner of my eye, I see that Baranor has returned to his book. I chuckle. “Baranor was very patient. I do look forward to continuing, though.”

“Do you have lessons tonight?”

I shake my head, knowing Baranor will be occupied this afternoon and evening in the healing wards.

Haldir nods. “I will be out most of the day—I’m convening with a few of the generals here to get a better idea of their companies’ capabilities—but I could meet you after? To train?”

I smile, pleased that he still plans on helping me. “That would be great, thank you! Just come find me when you’re ready.”

He offers me a smile in response and returns to his breakfast.

Rumil scoffs but there is a twinkle in his eye that instantly makes me wary. “Tell me you do not plan on taking her to the training grounds so late at night? She won’t be able to see a thing.”

Haldir gives his brother a strange look. “Of course not.”

“Good.” Rumil sniffs. “But you cannot use our room. It is too small.”

I shrug, not quite understanding Rumil’s objections. “We can use mine — it’s got plenty of space.”

“That will work,” Haldir agrees.

Before I can think any more on it, Rumil catches my attention. “After breakfast, do you want to visit Roch in the stables? I’m sure he misses us both.”

I smile and agree, surprised to find that I also miss Horse the horse.

Breakfast hurries along and soon Rumil and I are the only ones left at the table, Haldir, Lavandil, and Baranor having hurried off to get to their duties. When we’ve finished our food, Rumil and I make for the stables which are not far from the main estate.

Rumil grins, brandishing an apple he lifted from the dining halls. “Do you want to give him this, or shall I?”

I bark out a laugh. “I’ll let you feed him the stolen apple.”

In answer, Rumil only throws the fruit high in the air, catching it with ease.

“Show off,” I mutter through a smile. After a few minutes of silence, I decide to ask the question that’s been bothering me since our arrival here. Rumil is the most easy-going of my new friends and I hope he’ll understand that I’m not trying to be rude or intrusive. I take a deep breath. “So, I had a question.”

He raises an eyebrow and in that moment looks so much like his oldest brother, it momentarily throws me off guard. “Yes,” he prompts when I don’t elaborate, and then he’s back to looking like himself.

“Orophin and Lavandil. Are they…a typical elven couple? I only ask because they’re the first elven couple I’ve met and I can only compare it to what I remember of human relationships. I’ve never seen them hug aside from the night we arrived, and never more affection than that. And they’ve been engaged for so long, do they plan on getting married?”

He chuckles and I sigh in relief. I haven’t upset him. “I forget how different humans are sometimes, of course it would seem strange to you. I assure you — they are quite normal. Humans are overly physically affectionate while elves tend to save that for romantic loves and close family members, and rarely in public. And remember, elves live forever—there’s no rush to get married in a certain amount of time. Besides, they are still young. I doubt either of them is ready to give up their home, their career, whether he moved to Imladris or she came to Lothlórien. For now, they are still enjoying their courtship.”

I nod, taking that information in.

“It usually takes a great amount of time for an elf to fall in love — or, at least, acknowledge that they’ve fallen in love. Some ellyn can take centuries to develop or recognize their feelings. I understand it can be quite disorienting.”

This gives me pause. Centuries? “That’s crazy. I mean—” I hurry to correct, aware of how judgmental I sound. “Not that elves are crazy, but your lifespan and all the time you can take. I can’t even wrap my head around it. Humans get what — eighty years?”

Rumil stops in his tracks. He turns to me, looking horrified. “Is that really it? Eighty years? Cosima, how old are you?”

I shrug, feeling self-conscious. “Twenty-three.”

“Twenty-three,” he gasps, bringing his fingers to his temples. He groans. “You are over a quarter through with your life.”

My breath stutters out. I haven’t thought of it that way. For all the differences between myself and my new friends, the biggest of them all somehow escaped my notice. Regardless of how long I reside in Arda, in what is a handful of years to these elves, I will be dead. And they will endure.

“It-it sounds kind of sad when you say it like that.” I look at the ground, unable to meet Rumil’s devastated eyes.

From my vantage point, I see him clench his hands into tight fists. When he speaks, his voice sounds thin, strained. “I understand now why elves often choose to distance themselves from human companionship. You have what is to you a long life ahead, and yet here I am, already grieving your loss.” He clears his throat, shifting his feet. “I do not know how Arwen bears it.”

I lift my gaze to his, not recognizing the name. “What do you mean?”

Rumil sighs, looking for the first time, quite old. Not in his face, never like that, but his eyes. It’s hard to believe that this ellon who sometimes seems younger than me has lived for two millennia.

“Arwen is Elrond’s daughter. She tends to keep to herself but is well-loved by her people. If you ask, Elrond will surely introduce you.” He pauses, seeming weighed down by his words. “She loves a human man.” I hear my sharp intake of breath and Rumil nods gravely. “His name is Aragorn and he is well known to the ellyn of Imladris. He is away for the time being — when whispers of evil reached this realm, he left to do his part. But Arwen…when Aragorn dies, so will she.”

I blink and am surprised to feel a wetness in my lashes. “But she’s an elf.”

Rumil slowly shakes his head. “Yes. When an elf gets married, when they bond their fæ with another’s, they are forever entwined. If one dies, the other must sail West or risk fading.”

Oh. Of course. Haldir mentioned this the other night — it didn’t occur to me before Rumil said the actual word, ‘fading’.

“I have only met one elf who lost their love. King Thranduil of the Woodland Realm. His wife died many centuries ago and yet every day, he grieves like it is the first. I do not know why he stays here, but I can see how much it costs him. I cannot imagine his pain. And Arwen walks into it willingly.” Rumil laughs without humor, shaking his head and looking to the ground. He purses his lips tightly. “No, it is likely she has no choice in the matter. You cannot help who you love. So Arwen will either fade over time or choose to die with Aragorn — she has already sworn never to sail. Arwen’s father is Peredhel — half elven, half human. All those in his line may choose: an elven life, or a mortal one. I believe Arwen has made her choice.”

I exhale shakily, the tears freely falling down my cheeks. “That sounds awful.”

Rumil nods in agreement, seeming to regard me with new eyes. I can’t blame him. To him, my friendship must promise nothing but grief.

“I’m sorry,” I breathe, not really sure what I’m apologizing for. His doomed friend? His sadness? My mortality?

He shakes his head, forcing a poor imitation of his earlier sunny smile. “Do not be sorry. Come, Roch is waiting.” He extends his hand towards the stables and, though I think we would both prefer to sit in our rooms and cry, I go with him.

{***}

When it is still early in the evening, there’s a knock on my door — Haldir ready for training. He greets me with a warm smile and news of his meetings.

“They went well,” he nods, accepting my offer of a glass of water. “The guard has wonderful structures in place and even better ellyn, so I am quite hopeful that new strategies will fortify an already strong group.” He lays his cloak over the back of the couch. “How were the stables with Rumil? Is Faervel in good condition?”

“Yes, he’s doing just fine. He’s got bigger stable than Roch, which of course Rumil took mild offense to.” I chuckle, thankful that I can remember it fondly even though the day was weighed down with sadness. “I had a nice time. Rumil is always fun to be with.”

Haldir nearly snorts, and the undignified noise coming from him makes me laugh. “Not at two in the morning with all that awful snoring, he’s not.” He crosses his arms, smiling nostalgically. “It’s like we’re children again, visiting our grandmother, crammed into one room. Orophin got so fed up with it once that he tossed Rumil outside.”

My eyes blow wide in disbelief, only feeling a little bad for laughing at Rumil’s misfortune. He probably deserved it. Hot pink flashes in front of my eyes and I’m suddenly overwhelmed with the now-familiar smell of red wine and hairspray. Dark, curly hair pinned tightly against a head standing only five feet off the ground — Nonna!

I gasp, blinking rapidly as I try to take in all this new information at once. I feel cool fingers grip mine and then my body finds the plushness of the couch.

Snowy holidays spent by an opulently decorated tree, tight hugs after a bad day, drinking sweet wine and laughing like we haven’t a care in the world. Nonna. I miss her. My heart aches with that crushing feeling of not knowing the next time you’ll see someone. More than that — not knowing the next time you’ll see someone you love. I try to focus on her face — does she look like me? Her face comes into full view, and I admonish myself. Of course she does, silly. Rather—you look like her. A sharp stab of pain pierces my skull and my breath catches halfway between a gasp and a scream.

Strong hands on my shoulders. Warmth against my arm. And pain racing through my head, behind my eyes, below my ears. As the pain gets stronger, the images of my grandmother flicker. I attempt to focus, to keep the memories solid and present, but lose the battle when a wave of nausea hits me. I clamp a hand over my mouth, desperately not wanting to vomit and so badly wanting this pain to stop.

“Cosima,” a frantic voice whispers. I feel fingers brush over my cheek.

I groan, the nausea and pain finally beginning to ebb away. The evening light suddenly seems much too harsh and I half-collapse forward, pressing my face into fabric that smells like trees to shut out the light.

“What’s wrong?”

Hands ghost over my spine, holding me against what I now recognize to be Haldir’s chest.

“Give me a minute,” I mumble, taking deep breaths as the pain and sickness fade. Haldir doesn’t move, his arms locked stiffly around me. Once I feel like I’ve regained control, I straighten slowly. Though no longer in the awful pain, my body feels heavy, weak, and practically aches with the desire for sleep. I look up at Haldir.

He watches me with what I can only describe as panic, though it takes me a moment to reach that conclusion, given the fact that I’ve never seen him look anything other than completely collected. With wide eyes, he stands, pulling my cloak off its hook. “I’m taking you to a healer.”

“No, Haldir, it’s just a—”

He throws the cloak to me, shrugging on his own with impressive speed. “You are human and humans sicken and die like that.”

I roll my eyes, though sober as I recall Rumil’s face when he became aware of my age. Whereas I know that this is just a headache, it must actually be upsetting for Haldir, an ellon who’s probably never seen someone with a headache in his life. I breathe deeply and, for the first time in our friendship, take on the role of the calm one. “It’s just a headache, maybe a migraine. Humans get them all the time. It usually happens when someone hasn’t had enough sleep or enough water — coincidentally, over the past few days I have been lacking in both.”

He pushes his water glass across the small table to me, still not looking entirely convinced. Thankfully though, the panic has begun to recede from his features. “Drink.”

I comply, knowing it will make us both feel better.

He watches me warily and with a small amount of accusation in his eyes before sitting down next to me once more. This time, he leaves a good amount of space between us though leans forward, hovering like he’s waiting to have to catch me again. I slump against the back of the couch but do my best to overall look very non-sick, not wanting to worry him. We sit in silence for a few moments while I sip on the water. I want to revisit the memory of my grandmother, but something tells me it will have to wait until I feel better. Focusing on memories is already difficult, and apparently, it’s nearly impossible in the face of a migraine.

Eventually, Haldir levels me with a stern look. Ah good, back to normal. “We will not carry on with training until you are well. I insist that you make proper sleep and hydration a priority.”

I smile at him, bringing a hand to my forehead in a mock-salute. “Yes, Marchwarden.”

He shakes his head weakly, but his smile at least touches his eyes. It’s nice. The light shifts as the sun sinks lower and he furrows his brow. “It’s still early — would you like dinner? I can have it sent to your room.”

I shake my head, the thought of food bringing back a wave of nausea. “No, thanks though. I think I’ll just lie down for the rest of the night, hopefully sleep it off.”

Haldir nods solemnly. “That might be best. Is—are you—is it safe for you to be alone? You will not pass out or suffer some unexpected side effect?”

“No,” I smile softly, touched by his concern. “I’m already feeling better, promise.”

He sucks in a breath, bobbing his head once more. “Good.” He stands, looking uncertain. “I will leave you to rest, then. May I visit you in the morning?”

I feel my smile widening. This is so sweet. “Of course.”

This seems to relax him a little, and he gathers his cloak. “Okay. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

And, though I should immediately crawl in my bed and go to sleep, it takes me a while to push the smile from my face and quiet my racing mind.

A/n Thanks for reading! Let me know if you would like a tag :) Comments, likes, and reblogs make my day!

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Tolkien tag list: @anangelwhodidntfall @eru-vande

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#tw mentions of death and grief #haldir #rumil #orophin #haldir x ofc #haldir x oc #haldir fanfic #haldir fanfiction

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small-teacup · 3 years

Text

Okay, Inventing Privileges Revoked

Requested by: @jwillowwolf

Notes: The magical stuff in this fic is based off of The Ancient Magus Bride (anime and manga). If you've read/seen it, I put a lil reference to it somewhere in here >:)

POV: 3rd person

Ships: Analogical, Royality, and Demus/Dukeceit/Receit

CW: Swearing, yelling, eating, sympathetic Remus and Janus, fire, mention of failing classes, vines, being watched

Lemme know if I missed any :D

Word Count: 3041

“Twist this...and then you-” The inventor muttered to himself as he made a few adjustments and tweaks on his latest machine. It was supposed to harness the power of magic from other worlds, so that it could benefit this world. He knows they exist...he just knows. A few sparks flew at him as a knob was turned. “Don’t you dare start acting up on me. I spent a year and a half on you, I’m not letting you give up on me now,” he scolded the piece of machinery. He had an amusing habit of talking to objects. As if the invention had heard him, little gears started turning even though he hadn’t meant it for it to be turned on. Not yet. But it seemed like it was doing it out of spite. An unpleasant noise erupted from it before he quickly turned the knob back to its original position. “That’s enough out of yo-”

“LOGAN!! DINNER’S READY!!”

“Soooo..” Patton started, taking a bite out of a piece of garlic bread. “Any progress on your cool lil’ device you got in your room?” He asked, looking over at his roommate.

The voice scared Logan out of his wits, flinching as he pushed up his glasses. “I’M COMING!” He called back, standing up from his seat and tiredly walking out of his bedroom to the kitchen. He didn’t seem to realize the pink-ish glow emitting from the machine behind him.

________________

“It’s not...exactly doing what I want it to do. But that’s alright, I can still fix it,” Logan replied, scooping some spaghetti into his mouth.

“Ooohh..okay! Virgil, how were your classes today?”

The boy in question sat across from Patton, hunched over and eating slowly with one hand, the other one shoved in his jacket pocket. “Failed ‘nother exam. I’m thinkin’ of giving up at this point…” He mumbled, poking a meatball.

“Noooo! Don’t say that! You still got a lot to look forward to!”

“I agree with Patton,” Logan said, looking over at Virgil. “You’re trying your best and that’s what matters. It’s just one mistake, it’s not that big of a deal. You’ll be ok.”

“But what if I won’t be? Ughh..my grades are going down so so low… Sometimes I just don’t wanna be here. Not away from you guys, of course, but..just- somewhere where I don’t have to stress myself every night and break down almost once every week.”

“Like Logie said, you’ll be okay! Here, how about this, you take a well-deserved break and me or Logan can do your work for you?”

“That wouldn’t work because he wouldn’t be learning the things he needs to in order to pass. The least we can do right now is try to keep his mind off of work for a short time. But he has to get back to doing his assignments after.”

“Um..,” Virgil muttered quietly, as not to interrupt either of the boys. “I guess my little ‘break’ starts now…? If so, then uh..can I see Logan’s machine thing?”

Logan and Patton looked at each other, the more optimistic of the two grinning. “Yeah! I’d like to see it too!”

The inventor sighed, shaking his head lightly. “Fine, but do not touch it.”

His roommates cheered as a small smile made its way onto Logan’s face.

After dinner, they were grouped in Logan’s room, staring at the little device.

________________

“So...how does it work?” Virgil asked, tilting his head slightly. Logan gently took the device and held it in his hands so the others could see. “Well, you’re supposed to turn this knob,” he explained, turning said knob. The machine sputtered to life, however it seemed...off. “But it doesn’t seem to be working correctly at the moment.”

Patton stared at the tiny device in amazement, Virgil doing the same until he got a notification from his phone. He pulled it out, pure frustration showing on his face.

“UGHHH- I don’t even wanna be IN THIS WORLD anymore!” He groaned, shoving his phone into his pocket.

Suddenly, child-like laughter filled the air.

“Wh...What was that?” Patton asked, fearful.

“I’m..not sure,” Logan responded, looking around. Vines grew from the ground and latched to their legs as three small portals appeared beneath them. They were pulled down into those portals before they could even scream.

________________

Logan woke up to the sight of trees, the moonlight shining through them, and the feeling of dirt beneath him. He shot up and looked around frantically before his eyes landed upon two figures curled up next to one of the trees. On closer examination, he realized those were his roommates. Patton seemed to have calmed Virgil down from a panic attack.

“Are you two okay…?” He asked, going over and sitting with them. At the sound of Logan’s voice, Virgil suddenly latched onto him. “God- I thought you died! I’m so sorry..This is my fault, I’m so so sorry..,” the boy muttered, his grip tightening.

“I...believe it’s my fault. It was my invention, I shouldn’t have shown it to you two when it wasn’t even working properly.”

“Guys-” Patton said, trying to warn them.

“No but if I hadn’t got so angry-”

“I don’t think it had to do with your anger.”

“Guys-”

“But what if it did? We weren’t pulled in until I got that stupid notif.”

“There’s nothing in the device that would make it respond to human emotions-”

“GUYS!”

“WHAT?!” The two shouted in unison, seeing Patton looking up.

“There’s people..w-watching..,” he whispered.

Virgil and Logan looked up as well. Two pairs of eyes stared back at them, one pair green and the other pair red. Shadows hid their bodies from view, if they even had bodies. The two entities laughed, sounding exactly like the laugh they’d heard before being sucked into this alternate world. Patton scooted over to his roommates hurriedly and stayed very close to them. The entities above seemed to look at each other before the one with green eyes suddenly disappeared with a gust of wind. Red eyes looked back down at them, suddenly dropping from the tree and landing with a flourish. In the light, it seemed that the entity was a boy, about the same age as the three humans in front of him. Little flames burned from the tips of his hair that he didn’t seem bothered with. Speaking of, his hair was tied in a ponytail that hung over his shoulder. He wore a white shirt with gold lining at the top, its sleeves going down to his elbows and hanging loosely. A red sash was tied around his waist. Black cloth was tucked into it from the back, making it sway behind him whenever he moved. He wore simple brown shorts that seemed to have been torn from what used to be a complete pair of trousers. Gold ribbons wrapped his legs in a criss-cross pattern, tying into knots at his ankles. His ears were pointed, making him look like an elf. His eyes always seemed to have a fire burning in them.

He grinned at the terrified humans and held his hand out to them, but it seemed more directed at Patton.

“Greetings, humans! You may call me Princey. You’re not supposed to be here!” He sang.

Patton was the first to speak up, albeit in a shaky tone, “N-Nice to meet you, Princey. I’m P-”

“Ah ah ah! Nicknames only. Real names have power in our world, and you wouldn’t want to fall prey to anything...unpleasant, now would you?” The fae interrupted. He narrowed his eyes, but his grin stayed.

“And how’re we supposed to know that you’re not one of the ‘unpleasant’ kind?” Virgil asked harshly, suspicious of this seemingly magical stranger.

The faerie’s eye twitched as he pulled back his hand, “You certainly seem to be one of them, so you tell me.”

“You did not-”

“If the shoe fits, rusty human.”

“Alright alright, umm...maybe we shouldn’t fight?” Patton suggested, looking between the two.

“Yes, we don’t need to cause more problems to add to the ones we already have,” Logan agreed, pulling Virgil closer. The smaller boy huffed and muttered an “okay.”

“So we’re all in agreement that we’d rather not fight right now! Perfect! Now, let’s start this over. What would each of you like to be called?”

“Can I be called Pat..? Is part of our names allowed?”

“I...suppose. You have a very sweet-sounding nickname. And you two?” He gestured to Logan and Virgil.

The inventor sighed, “Call me L, please.”

“Alright, very simple,” Princey commented, looking over at the last boy to share his nickname. “..You know, I might just call you Rusty.”

“Don’t call me that-”

“Too late, Rusty.��

“I have a question,” Logan stated, looking up at the fae.

“Yeeeesss?”

“Why did you call him a ‘rusty human’?”

“Ah! It’s something only Neighbors, such as I, would get. Each human that comes through the forest has a distinct smell. For example, Pat smells like roses.” He sighed dreamily. “My favorite flower… As for Rusty over there, he smells like...well- rust. It’s utterly disgusting to us.”

“..Is ‘Neighbors’ the name of your species?”

“Sort of…? Neighbors is what you call faeries, however that term is dull to some. If we’re talking about the subspecies of fae, I’m a fire sprite.”

Virgil snickered, covering his mouth to hide his smile.

“What’s so funny about that? I’ll have you know that you should respect us magical beings, lest you be cursed or spirited away!”

“I’m gonna call you Soda,” The boy replied behind his hand.

“Wha-”

“Ooooh! Because he’s a sprite!” Patton said, pointing finger guns at Virgil. “Ayyyyyy!”

“Ayyyyyyy.” The other pointed finger guns right back at him.

Princey and Logan just sighed, one being confused and the other used to his roommates' antics.

The fae clapped his hands. “Okay okay. To get you all out of potential danger, you’re going to have to come with me. I’ll take you to my abode. Be warned, my brother and his boyfriend live there as well.” He shot a look at Virgil, “I’m not going to kill any of you. It wouldn’t benefit anyone.”

They looked at each other and seemed to be in silent agreement as they stood. Princey started guiding them through the trees and the bushes, careful to avoid anything that could kill these new humans.

“So...Why are you helping us? Not that I don’t appreciate it, I just...wanna know, y’know?” Patton asked as they walked.

“...It’s lonely here. The other fae are very..gossipy. You do something dumb and suddenly it spreads around like wildfire. So I usually stay away from fae that I don’t already know, as I wouldn’t want any...betrayals or damages to my pride. I trust that you humans are not the same...?”

“I don’t think so.. Right?” The boy looked over at his two friends, who seemed to be having a silent conversation with one another. He sighed and gave up on the question, feeling a bit left out. Princey seemed to notice, gesturing for Patton to walk with him at the front, to which the boy hesitantly but happily did.

After a bit of walking, they came across a little cottage in a clearing. Smoke billowed out of the chimney as they approached it.

“Well,” the fire sprite sighed. “Here we are! It’s not much...but it works.”

“...I thought it’d look more like a giant mushroom or something,” Virgil commented, a bit suspicious about how normal the house looked.

“Why would we live in a fucking mushroom? A MUSHROOM THAT SIZE DOESN’T EVEN EXIST- Where are you getting these ideas?!”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, faerie boy?” The emo replied, waiting for Princey to open the door or something. Was there even a lock on the front door?

As if on cue, the door swung open to reveal another faerie, similar to Princey. This one, however, wore reversed colors. A black shirt with silver lining and a green sash instead of a red one. He had a silver streak in his hair, dangling over his eyes. His hair was braided, draped over his shoulder as well. The most peculiar thing, though, was the fake mustache he wore and the green wings protruding from his back, speckled with black.

“Wretched brother! And...other people!” The new faerie greeted, moving aside so they could get in.

“Greetings to you too...Duke,” Princey muttered, leading the small group inside.

“That’s his name? Duke? What, is he a dog?” Virgil asked, semi-sarcastically.

“Based on his behavior, he might as well be,” The fire sprite grumbled, flopping on a nearby chair and sighing. “And no, that’s not his name. Remember what I said about those, Rusty?”

“Yeah yeah, they ‘hold power’ or whatever. But why do you guys need to disguise your names when you’re the one who’s able to use them against us? You’re not at risk.”

“Actually, we are. I’d also rather you not call my beloved a dog,” A new voice said, the source of it being a figure that had just walked in from the kitchen. The humans looked at him, a bit startled. It didn’t seem like this one was the same as the brothers. He wore a wide-brimmed black hat with a yellow ribbon tied around it. The shadows created by the hat covered one half of his face. The half that was visible seemed normal. He had dark brown eyes that made him seem wise and intimidating. A black and gold capelet laid on his shoulders, linked together with a gold chain. He wore yellow lace gloves with black ribbons wrapped around his wrist. He was even wearing thigh-high stiletto boots.

“mY BOYFRIEND!!” Duke screeched as he half-ran and half-flew to the new faerie. He latched onto him in a tight hug, his wings flapping slightly in happiness.

“Could I inquire what nickname you,” Logan started, gesturing to the mysterious fae, “would like to go by? And what type of faeries are you two?”

“Hm...Call me Deceit, if you will. Duke’s an Ariel and I’m a Leannan Sidhe.”

“Ariel?? Like the mermaid??” Patton wondered aloud, sitting next to Princey on another chair. It was obvious the two wanted to be close to each other with the way they were glancing at each other.

“I...don’t know what a ‘mermaid’ is, but I’m assuming that has nothing to do with the faerie world, so no. An Ariel is a type of sprite, a wind denizen, or in simpler terms, they can control the wind. They’re known to be mischievous, despite their job of purification,” Deceit explained, fondly playing with his boyfriend’s hair.

“And a Leannan Sidhe…?” Logan asked, sitting on the couch with a notebook and pen in hand. Where did he even get that…

“A subspecies of a fae you humans would refer to as a ‘vampire’. Young men let us feed on their blood in exchange for talent. It could also be exchanged for...other things.”

“Oh. Is the amount of blood a lot…? Because it would kill the human if you took too much.”

“It’s just enough that the human wouldn’t die on the spot. However, those we feed on don’t usually lead very long lives. Enjoy what you have and die or yearn for more and die greedy.”

“Greedy?” Virgil repeated, sitting next to Logan and clasping his hands together. If he was being honest, he actually considered offering his blood to the vampire, despite how shady that’d be.

“What you sought for certainly didn't come from you, did it?”

“N..No…”

“That’s what I thought.”

Awkward silence fell over the room. Duke fluttered his wings happily as he cuddled closer to Deceit. It created a little gust of wind that unfortunately threatened the life of Princey’s flames, to the fire sprite’s annoyance.

“Do any of you know why we’re here..?” Patton asked quietly, shuffling a bit closer to the fae next to him.

“I do! I do!!” The wind denizen chirped, speeding away from his boyfriend and stopping in front of the human. “So when the nerd over there made the weird machine, we were able to find connections to your world! But we didn’t know what to do with it, so we left it alone. But theeeeennnn, Rusty said a few magic words, and some of the faeries in our world took advantage of it, so that’s why you guys are here!”

“What magic words???” Virgil called from the other side of the room.

Duke cleared his throat and did a half-hearted attempt at imitating Virgil, “i dON’T evEn WAnnA be iN thiS woRlD ANyMOREEeEe blAHhhhh.”

“Okay, I said everything BUT that last part.”

“I know, it’s just that you’re overly angsty.”

“IT’S PART OF MY AESTHETIC-”

“Let’s calm down for a moment,” Patton said softly, giving a tiny and nervous smile. “What part of that was magical?”

“All of it! When humans say something, whether they mean it or not, some specific types of fae listen closely so they can cause maaaajor terror and disorder. Like this one time, some girl was angry at her lil’ brother so she went, ‘I wish you were never my brotherrrr!’ or something dramatic like that, and then the next day, the boy was gone! And nooooobody remembered him except her. She got really scared, but lucky for her, a couple of mages came by and helped her.”

“...Mages?”

“Yeah! They’re either like...human-like faes or sleigh-beggies.”

“Sleigh-beggies??? I honestly don’t think that’s the actual name-”

“Doesn’t matter what you think! That’s what it’s called. Sleigh-beggies are just humans who’ve been gifted with the sight to see otherworldly things. It may sound cool, but trust me, you don’t wanna know how many things are crawling over all of you right now.”

At that, both Patton and Virgil screeched, trying to get rid of the creatures they couldn’t even see. Logan sighed and shook his head.

“How do we get back?” He asked, looking over at Deceit as it seemed like he was the best person to ask.

“Well…” The fae started.

“You’re just going to have to stay and find out.”

[End]

(This post wasn't proofread-)

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