buttered-my-biscuits

[buttered-my-biscuits]

It is quite cold.

**

Pairing(s): Fili x OC Amara, Kili x OC Amara

Rating: Mature

May be quite spicy 🌶️ for someone AO3 hasn't ruined.

(Couldn't be me honestly. I'm (not) sorry mother).

Warnings: Good ol' Fingerbangin 👉🏻💥 , Voyeurism?

I am not liable for the burning of any minors'

eyes, they have been warned.

Word count: 2319

**

Zirizkhîê:  My Gold One

Berzêl:  Sun of all suns (gold)

**

Author’s note:

I’m a world/character builder, because I have a very overactive imagination. I see the world clear as day in these words, so if you are not like-minded, I am so sorry if my fics are boring to you! 🙏🏻 Regardless, I hope you enjoy!

Snow fell in slow, deliberate strokes, painting the earth in white. The only sound—besides the steady crackle of the fire—was the faint sizzle of each flake meeting the flames. A whisper against the silence that wrapped around Thorin Oakinshield’s company.

They had walked for miles that day, searching for a cave to shelter in for the night. No such luck. The mountain paths had been merciless, the wind sharp as a blade, and now, exhaustion weighed heavy on every step.

Amara shivered, tugging the edges of her blanket tighter around herself.

She envied the dwarves — the cold did not seep into their bones the way it did with her. It seemed as though they barely even noticed the cold, while she felt it everywhere—gnawing at her fingers, curling into the hollow of her chest, sinking deep into her bones like a second skeleton. Too small to keep in her own warmth, too thin to fight it off, she could do nothing but shiver and curse whatever cruel fate had made her this way.

A voice behind her made her jump.

“Mari, are you cold?”

She turned, her stiff limbs protesting the movement, and locked eyes with Kili. His brows were pulled together, his expression tinged with concern.

"Just a tad," she admitted, forcing a smile. "I'll be fine, though. Don't worry about me-" Her body betrayed her before she could even finish. A violent shiver racked her frame, shaking her down to her bones.

Kili huffed out an amused breath, his smirk sharp despite the warmth in his gaze. "Yeah. That's convincing."

Before she could protest, he grabbed her arm and hauled her to her feet.

"Kili!" she whined. "I was finally warm, and now you've gone and ruined it!"

"You'll be plenty warm over here." His grip remained firm as he pulled her away from the fire, ignoring her disgruntled muttering.

They wove through the camp, stepping over bedrolls, past their sleeping companions-all tucked snugly in their blanket like little burritos, looking much warmer than she felt.

Beneath the gnarled arms of an ancient oak, on the far edge of the camp, Fili lay curled in his bedroll, his back turned toward them.

Kili nudged him with his foot. “Fee, move over.”

Fili groaned into his blanket. “It’s too cold to move.”

"Well, you have to." Kili nudged him again, harder this time. "Mari's going to freeze to death if you don't."

That got his attention. Fili sat up immediately, blinking blearily at the two of them. “What?”

“Mari’s sleeping with us tonight.” Kili’s tone left no room for argument as he nudged her forward. Mari was simply too cold to complain — She felt as though her hands were about to fall off.

Fili barely hesitated before scooting over, making room between them. Amara slipped beneath the covers, shifting awkwardly as she felt Kili settle behind her.

Immediately she could feel the smoldering heat radiating from their bodies, causing her shivers to come back full force.

“Kee, give her more blankets,” Fili muttered, already pulling the covers up to her shoulders. He frowned as he took in the way she was still curled in on herself, brows drawn tight.

“This is so embarrassing,” she thought miserably, as the two princes fussed over her.

And then—Fili took her hands in his, rubbing them gently before bringing them to his lips, breathing warm air over her icy fingers.

She hunched her shoulders up to her ears as a shiver racked her body, causing her back to come in contact with a very warm front.

A moment later, Kili slung an arm over her waist, tugging her fully against his chest. “This okay?” His breath brushed against the shell of her ear, sending warmth curling low in her stomach. “We’ll stay warmer if we’re close.”

She swallowed hard. “Yeah.”

Fili, still cradling her hands, shifted closer as well, sandwiching her between the two princes. The heat between them was intoxicating, pressing in from all sides, melting her frozen body inch by inch.

Slowly but surely, her shivering began to subside, and her eyelids grew heavy.

A gentle touch brushed a strand of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. Her lashes fluttered open, meeting Fili’s piercing blue gaze.

“Are you warm enough?” He murmured.

She barely had time to nod before Kili’s fingers started tracing idle patterns against her waist. “I know some other ways to warm you up, if you’re still cold…” he said cheekily, before letting out a squawk as Fili’s hand collided with his forehead.

“Ignore him, Mari,” Fili said, his tone almost fond. “He’s an idiot.”

She swallowed, but her mind had already run wild with the suggestion, leaving her face flushed. She suddenly became very aware of the two bodies pressed against both sides of her thin body.

Fili’s gaze flicked between her and his brother, reading her expression far too easily. His lips curled, slow and knowing. “Unless… that thought is of interest to you?”

“Heat coiled low in her stomach, spreading like wildfire beneath her skin.

She wet her lips. “It is quite cold.”

Kili’s breath ghosted over her neck, sending another shiver through her. “Indeed it is.”

Fili hummed, his fingers trailing lightly along her jaw before tilting her chin up, his thumb brushing over her lower lip.

“And what would you like us to do about that?” His voice was barely above a whisper, his face so close to hers that their breaths mingled, the warmth of him intoxicating.

Her heart pounded, thundering against her ribs so loud she was sure they could hear it. But instead of answering, she closed the distance, her lips brushing softly against Fili’s.

He met her halfway, deepening the kiss, his hand tightening in her hair as his lips moved over hers—gentle, testing, before turning hungry.

Then—another mouth.

Kili’s lips found the delicate skin of her throat, pressing open-mouthed kisses against the column of her neck before finding that one sensitive spot and biting down.

Amara tore her lips from Fili’s as she let out a strangled gasp. “Kili…” she moaned. “Wait— don’t—“ she was cut off by her own whine that quickly turned into a breathy moan.

She heard a curse in Khuzdul as Kili now viciously attacked that spot, causing sweet noises to tumble from her lips.

“You sing so pretty Zirizkhîê…” Fili said, before his lips met hers once more.

Kili’s hand then slipped beneath the blankets, warm fingers skimming up her stomach—hesitant, teasing, as if waiting for permission.

When she didn’t protest, said hand slowly crawled its way to her chest.

“Tell me to stop at any time, Amara.” He whispered before gently cupping her breast, quickly finding her perked nipple and running his thumb over it.

She gasped, back arching, but the sound was swallowed by Fili, whose tongue now swept against hers in a battle she was all too willing to lose.

She felt as if he were devouring her.

The chill of his mustache beads rested against her cheeks as she fisted her hands tightly in his tunic.

Kili’s touch was unrelenting, his lips and hands leaving undeniable proof of his attention as he shifted to her other breast. Each brush of his fingers, each teasing graze of his mouth, sent shudders rippling through her. She couldn’t contain the soft whimpers and gasps that spilled from her lips—her body was ablaze, burning from the inside out.

“She’s so sensitive Fee…” Kili whispered behind her. Fili hummed in agreement.

A warm hand glided down her side, slow and deliberate, before pausing at the waistband of her pants—a silent question lingering in the air.

Fili eased away from their almost overwhelming kiss, leaving them both breathless in the charged silence. Their eyes locked—his gaze steady and intent—before his hand began a slow, deliberate descent beneath the hem of her pants, seeking the soft, milky skin hidden beneath.

Her breath hitched — the realization of its path sent a flush through her.

Though, almost as soon as it began, it faltered. His hand settled on her abdomen, positioned just above her core.

“Fili…” she murmured, her voice trembling with need—a soft plea that only deepened the knowing curve of his smile.

“Please…” Her whisper, barely audible yet charged with longing, hung in the air between them.

“Anything for our Berzêl,” he murmured playfully, his words a promise as his thumb traced the curve of her hidden pearl. Her back arched in response, and a raw, unbidden cry escaped her lips—barely hushed in time by Kili’s quick hand.

“Hush now, little dove… we don’t want the others to hear.” He whispered in a way, that suggested he wouldn’t be very opposed to being caught… Amara barely resisted rolling her eyes. Little freak.

They were far enough away that her soft moans and the rustle of the sheets went unnoticed. Dwalin and Balin, with their backs turned and minds elsewhere, remained unaware of what was unfolding under the covers—too absorbed in their own conversation to notice.

Fili continued to circle his thumb with deliberate precision, drawing soft, appreciative moans from her. Kili tightened his hold on her mouth, gently stifling the sounds of pleasure.

“I think she needs more, Fee…” Kili teased with a sly smile.

“I think you’re right,” Fili replied, his grin matching Kili’s playful glimmer.

Kili then shifted onto his elbow, his hand still covering her mouth, gently pressing her shoulders flat against the bedroll. In that moment, both brothers had an unobstructed view as she tossed her head back in pure, unbridled pleasure.

Amara’s back arched further, every muscle trembling with anticipation as a thick finger began its slow, steady journey deep into her desire.

A low, almost imperceptible curse escaped Fili as he began to pump his finger in a steady rhythm. In a husky whisper meant only for them, he murmured, “She’s practically dripping, Kee.”

They both watched as she squeezed her eyes shut, her heavy breathing quieting the soft moans escaping her. One hand clutched the hand Kili had placed over her mouth, while her other hand gripped his wrist firmly.

Fili slipped a second finger inside her, searching for that secret spot hidden deep within. He knew he’d found it when Amara’s head tipped back with a drawn our moan, and her hips pressed eagerly into his hand. With that quiet confirmation, he quickened his pace, savoring the soft, wet squelch that spoke of her pleasure.

Fili reached down to adjust his arousal, straining against his pants. The sight of her and the soft murmur of her moans nearly pushed him over the edge. A glance at Kili revealed that his own control was just as weak.

Kili watched her with fierce hunger, his eyes dilated until only a thin band of honey-brown remained. Fili suspected his own gaze held the same intensity.

Sliding a third finger inside her, the brothers watched her pleasure build.

Her legs began to tremble as she neared her climax, her hips now matching his steady rhythm. Her eyes grew hazy with desire while her hands clung to Kili’s for support.

“Are you going to cum, Zirizkhîê?” Kili murmured near her ear. She nodded in agreement, her soft moans rising in octaves beneath his hand—a clear sign of her pleasure.

Kili shifted once more, letting his thumb trace along her perked nipple and deliver a firm pinch that sent Amara’s hips arching upward—pressing her into Fili’s hand, which continued its steady, rhythmic motion inside her.

She let out a broken sob beneath Kili’s hand, overwhelmed by the raw pleasure wracking her entire body.

“Come for us, Amara. You can do it,” Fili murmured, drawing close so his warm breath grazed her skin. His soft encouragement was like a whispered invitation, coaxing her deeper into bliss. In response, she squeezed her eyes shut and surrendered to the rising tide of pleasure, letting herself soar until she reached her peak.

Kili inhaled deeply as she released an exquisitely sultry moan—a sound he knew would echo through his thoughts until dawn.

Fili maintained a steady rhythm with his fingers, gently stroking her trembling walls until he felt her tension slowly melt away. Then, with a tender motion, he withdrew his touch, watching as her body softened and deflated with a long, drawn-out sigh.

As she slowly opened her eyes, they met Kili’s soft, smiling gaze. “Good?” he whispered, his hand gently caressing her stomach in soothing circles.

Amara continued trembling, her mind still lost in the afterglow. Too overwhelmed to speak, she reached for him—her arms wrapping around his shoulders as she pulled him close into the warmth of her embrace.

Kili rested his head on her right breast and playfully nipped it. Amara responded with a tender laugh, gently tapping him on the back of his head.

Fili settled on her left side, drawing close enough so that his body pressed against hers, his hand resting softly on her stomach.

Suddenly, a thought flickered through her mind. “Fili, Kili? You two didn’t—” She stopped as Fili shook his head. “Tonight was about you,” He murmured.

“Now that’s just not fair,” she whispered with a frown tugging at her features—a soft exclamation that drew a gentle laugh from him.

“Oh, trust me, darling… watching you tonight was more than enough for both of us,” Kili replied. “That last moan of yours will fuel my fire for days…” She watched him, his eyes sparkling with a playful smirk as he recalled every sound she had made.

“Are you warm enough now?” Fili cut in.

“I think we’re all plenty warm,” Amara replied, her pale freckled cheeks blooming with a shy blush.

“Good,” they answered together in unison.

[buttered-my-biscuits]

I love when Thorin Oakenshield gives up reign to Fili, and moves to the Shire to live his life out with his husband Bilbo Baggins.

Once again thinking about my favourite part of The Hobbit Trilogy: the part where Thorin, Fili, and Kili all survive their battle wounds and live happily ever after.

[buttered-my-biscuits]

I refuse to watch the 3rd movie, because no they didn’t.

me in 2012: crying about fili

me in 2025: still crying about fili

[buttered-my-biscuits]

“You need to be more subtle with your expressions”

“I am subtle”

My subtle expressions:

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Bilbo standing excitedly inside the hobbit inspired room thorin has built him. Many designs similar to his home in the shire. Thorin gestures to a glass door leading outside and Bilbo can't believe his eyes. A garden!

[buttered-my-biscuits]

Imagine joining Thorin’s company on their Journey to the Lonely Mountain

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Your honor, I don’t know what happened. I was only looking for one photo…

…346 pins later.

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Everyone knows the sunshine and the sunshine protector.

This is the "sunshine protector" and "sunshine protectors protector who's also the sunshine being protected"

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Stop this is so fucking cute

Am I the only one who has this vivid image in my head of bilbo leaving at the end of the hobbit.

Walking down the newly formed path that leads away from Erebor and back to his little home in Bag End

Having not said goodbye to Thorin, nor the others officially. (Because Thorin didn't die stfu)

And having Thorin watch him longingly from the ramparts, watching as he slowly fades as he crosses the bridge into Dain to see if anyone can ferry him home.

Only for Thorin the be approached by Balin who says that Thorin should "go"

And Thorin yeets himself off the fucking ramparts onto the bridge bellow and sprints like a madman to reach Bilbo before he can cross the second bridge

...

I think I need to write something

[buttered-my-biscuits]

Strong belief that Fili loves getting his hair brushed by his One behind closed doors — That he’s a little lion that practically purrs

[buttered-my-biscuits]

Rip kili and fili and ori y’all would have loved Minecraft ❤️❤️

[buttered-my-biscuits]

R-18+; Symphony (Fili x Fem!Reader)

Summary - Creating beautiful "music" with your dwarven lover.

Warnings - Smut, language, afab reader, fem!reader, slight dom!Fili, unprotected sex, mention of female genitalia (reader), mention of male genitalia (Fili), mention of bodily fluids, reader squirts, slight voyeurism if you squint (the others know you two are going at it), weird descriptions.

Pronouns & POV - None, third-person-ish (writing a bit in the past tense)

Word Count - 900+

A/N - A shorter smut that I wrote mainly on my phone in the midst of a bad headache, though I did polish it up a bit. I am trying to start writing more blurbs in the hopes it will allow me to be more creative and finish more of the smuts that I start and then never finish. I am slowly building up my confidence in writing, I plan to hopefully write for other fandoms soon, so if anyone has any TV shows or movie recommendations I would love to hear them. Pure smut under the cut!

Read on Wattpad Read on AO3

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

The all-too-familiar harmony of skin meeting each other in a squelching slap echoed throughout the room. The tune of your melodic moans soon chased after it, bouncing against the old stone walls as the air filled with a symphony of lust.

It was a tune known well within the mountain halls, as it had danced throughout them more frequently than not. If it were up to the golden-haired prince, the song of your pleasure would be sung every second of every hour, yet he was rational enough to know that was impossible, though it did not mean he had not attempted to turn the fantasy into reality more than once.

The thick stretch of the golden-hired dwarf's fat cock pushed deep within your inner walls, carving away into your core just as his people carved away at stone, crafting the perfect sheath for his throbbing member. The bed creaked and groaned with each sharp thrust of his toned hips. Your drenched cunt choked upon the girth of his length, turning the once drool of pleasure that trickled from the hole into a sobbing stream of endless arousal that coated his length with a squelch.

The harsh slap of his toned hips meeting the flesh of your ass boomed throughout the room, a sound accompanied by a litany of gruff praises that fell from his lips as they nipped against the crook of your neck. The harsh prickle of his bearded face rubbed against the sensitive skin, earning a shiver of pleasure to roam throughout your body as your hands clenched at the smooth sheets that lay beneath you.

A sensation that would cause your inner walls to clench around his throbbing length, quivering at the deep stretch of the thick, reddened tip continued to pound away at your most sensitive spots—guiding you to the edge of pleasure with each sharp thrust of his hips.

The hold he once had on your shoulder would drop, his thick, calloused fingers gliding down slowly—leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake as it slid down the curve of your side before curving downwards and slipping between the flesh of your legs. The harshness of his thumb would slip down between your slick folds, earning yet another shiver to roam down your spine as the weight of your head tilted back at the sensation—feeling his thumb slowly gliding up and down between your folds, seeking out that sensitive bundle of nerves your lover adored so much.

And it would come into contact with your twitching, sensitive clit, causing your hips to buck upwards into his touch. The harshness of your hips connecting with each thrust and swirl of his thick thumb, his motions leading you in the dance of pleasure as he guided you closer to the edge. A familiar static would begin to trail up from the tips of your toes as they curled inwards, tightening your feet as the grasp of your inner walls tightened around his fattened cock, a wordless warning that you were nearing the peak.

The room felt heavy, roaming with the thickness of lust as a sheen of sweat weighed upon your soft skin. The static of pleasure roams wild within your veins, yet the static would almost come to a halt as your lover's fullness departs from you without warning. Before a single question as to why he would pull away could form within your lust-driven brain, the wetness of his tongue would meet your aching cunt.

The warm, wet caress of the muscle would lap up the length of your womanhood. His licks were quick and eager as he licked up the entirety of your cunt, his tongue cleaning out every crack and crevice of that sweet, tangy nectar that gushed forth from your cunt.

Though, the hole he once fucked was not neglected for long as the sudden stretch of his warm, twitching tongue would ease into your moistened entrance. A pleased growl would vibrate into your cunt, causing your cunt to quiver upon his tongue as the tang of your arousal would encase his tongue entirely.

The strokes of his tongue would feel random yet planned. Sudden lines, jabs, and swirls would dance within the walls of your entrance—but if you had half a mind within the raging waves of pleasure you were treading in, you would have noticed he was spelling his name inside of you. The pressure of his thumb against your clit would continue as his tongue danced within your cunt, as each swirl of the calloused thickness would leave you teetering towards the brink of pleasure.

"Come for me." A growled command you would follow within an instance, being thrown over the edge of pleasure as his name fell from your lips like a desperate prayer as the sweet liquid of your nectar would gush forth from your cunt, flooding his mouth and soaking his thick beard. Hot tears prick within the corners of your eyes as the familiar electric sensation roams wild throughout your veins—a sensation your dwarven lover would feel through the throbbing of your pussy.

A pleased growl would vibrate against your sensitive, twitching cunt allowing the waves of pleasure to sweep you away further as you floated within the high of lustful ecstasy. The scent of your arousal weighed heavy within the cold mountain air as the heat of your breath hovered above your quivering form. The bed groaned with a creak of the weight of your lover shifted upwards, golden beard dripping with the essence of you.

And so, it continued onwards just as it had once started: with the deep stretch of his throbbing length sliding inside of you and the thumping of the old, wooden frame bouncing against the stone wall. The air soon filled with the squelching slap of skin meeting each other yet again, a symphony you would never grow tired of.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

[buttered-my-biscuits]

Warmth In The Firelight

Notes: My second fic in two days, I was scrolling through @imaginexhobbit's blog and found this one, along with a few others I’m working on currently! I am thinking about opening up requests again, what do you guys think? I hope you enjoy this one & as always, constructive criticism is appreciated! imagine

Warning(s): none, unless you count sweet tenderness :)

The company had finally found respite at Beorn’s house after the intense chase he gave them. The smell of freshly baked bread lingered in the air, and the soft crackle of the fire filled the silence as everyone settled into the cozy warmth of the great hall of Beorn’s cottage. Despite the faint tension of being in the home of a skin-changer (who had just scared you within an inch of your life), you felt a sense of safety you hadn’t experienced in weeks. 

You found your spot near Fili, who had taken a place beside one of the low tables. His golden hair glinted in the firelight, his usually mischievous face now softened by exhaustion. You didn’t intend to end up so close to him—it just happened as the company sprawled out in various spots, vying for comfort. Your blanket, much too thin to ward off the night’s chill, left you shivering as you tried to find a comfortable position. 

Fili noticed. “Cold?” he asked softly, his voice just above a whisper. His blue eyes flickered toward you, filled with quiet concern. 

You hesitated, unwilling to admit it outright, but the tremble in your frame betrayed you. He didn’t press further. Instead, he shifted slightly, drawing the edge of his own blanket toward you. 

“Here. Won’t do much, but better than nothing,” he murmured, his tone gentle. 

Grateful, you nodded and tried to share the blanket without getting too close. The fire’s glow was soothing, and the low hum of Thorin and Balin’s quiet conversation filled the room, lulling you into drowsiness. Before you realized it, you began to lean slightly toward Fili, your exhaustion overriding your usual awareness. 

Then it happened. Your arm brushed against his, the unexpected touch startling you awake. You tensed, pulling back slightly in embarrassment. “Sorry,” you whispered quickly, looking down at your hands. 

Fili didn’t reply right away. For a moment, you thought he might have fallen asleep once more, but then you felt the weight of his arm hesitating above your shoulders. His breath hitched—uncertain, perhaps—but then his hand settled gently against your arm. The hesitation melted away as he gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Fili said quietly, his voice barely audible over the crackling fire. He pulled you closer, his arm wrapping around you with surprising care. His warmth was immediate, chasing away the chill that had seeped into your bones. 

You stiffened at first, not expecting the sudden closeness, but the steady rise and fall of his chest and the calmness in his presence made it hard to resist relaxing. You let out a soft sigh, leaning into him as your head rested lightly against his shoulder. Fili shifted slightly, adjusting the blanket to make sure you were both covered. 

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The company’s soft snores and the distant howl of the wind outside were the only sounds in the room. Fili’s thumb brushed absentmindedly against your arm, a soothing motion that made your eyelids grow heavier. 

“This isn’t so bad,” he said after a while, his voice tinged with amusement. “I’d say you’ve got the better end of the deal. I’m a fine dwarven heater.” 

You smile faintly, eyes still closed. “I think I’ll take full advantage of that, then.” 

His soft chuckle vibrated against you, and you felt his grip tighten just a fraction. “You’re welcome to,” he replied, his tone softer now, his earlier playfulness giving way to something gentler. 

Wrapped in his warmth and the rare peace of the moment, you allowed yourself to drift off, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear and his arm holding you close. For the first time in weeks, you felt completely safe.

[buttered-my-biscuits]

Favorite genre of LotR/hobbit fiction is when they make the residents of the shire, like, the worst people in the world. Just absolute dicks. Lobelia Sackville-Baggins rivals the cruelty of Sauron.

[buttered-my-biscuits]

they all knew.... they knew

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Someone sedate me. I finally got around to making art of these two.

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A High Lord's Scholar - Helion x Reader

Request: Can you please write a story with Helion x shy reader? Thank you! & Can you please write a story where reader is afraid she is not good enough and not beautiful enough to be Helion's mate? Description: Reader becomes one of Helion's scholars, and Helion helps her break out of her shell. Warnings: none I think? Word count: approx. 3300 words

You took in a deep breath as you walked through the grand entry of the High Lord of Day’s favorite private library.  You tried to quell the nerves that buzzed in your stomach.  It was your first day joining the ranks of the High Lord’s honored scholars, and you couldn’t help the anxiety that coursed through your body.

Since you were a little kid, raised on the importance of knowledge and curiosity, you had dreamed of becoming one of the honored scholars that worked under the High Lord of Day.  Helion Spell Cleaver, your High Lord, was not only immeasurably talented at the magical arts, but also an avid scholar with some of the largest and most prestigious libraries in Prythian.  He invited a handful of scholars to work with him every decade - to help him translate ancient texts and delve into his many research projects.  It was quite the honor to be selected - to be granted access to his private libraries.

You had been a quiet child.  You mother always told you that you were too shy for your own good.  As soon as you learned to read, you poured yourself into books, loving the freedom reading gave you.  The idea of being a scholar was everything you had ever wanted.

When you were selected, you were overjoyed.  It was everything you had worked for – everything you had so desperately desired.  As you walked into the breathtaking library, you reminded yourself of how hard you had worked to be here.  You tried to convince yourself that you belonged.

There were three other scholars who had been selected.  Each of them was sitting at one of the elegant wooden tables set up in front of the library’s large windows. 

You took your seat at one of the tables, placing your satchel on the chair next to you.  Two accomplished scholars were standing before the tables, gathering various piles of parchment to pass out.  You wondered how long they had worked here – if they enjoyed the work as much as you imagined you would.

As the scholars passed out various texts and pieces of parchment, you saw the High Lord of Day approach.  You had never met the High Lord before, had only seen him from afar at festivals.  You knew he was renowned not only for his intelligence but for his handsomeness and flirtatious nature.  You had always been shy, had always strayed from the spotlight, so you were cautious given what you had heard of High Lord Helion.

“Welcome,” Helion greeted you in a loud, silky voice.  He certainly was handsome with his amber eyes and shimmering brown skin, but you were more interested in his mind than his looks.  “I am glad you have all decided to join us.”  He winked as he said the last words, causing a deep flush to spread across your cheeks.

“My scholars have distributed various manuscripts and texts for you to analyze and translate, each catered to your particular skillset.  You are welcome to use any of the books in the library to aid your work.  The library is spelled to send you any book we have, if you request it – just think of what you want, and the library shall send it to you.  If you have any questions, please ask the supervising scholars. I will return later this afternoon to check in on your progress,” Helion told you with a warm smile.  He was less stern than you would have expected, certainly less formal than you would have thought a High Lord to be.

You got to work reading through the documents you had been given.  One was a manuscript of an ancient history on magical artifacts.  Another was a torn document containing partial instructions to a spell that needed to be recreated.  The last was a memoir requiring translation.

The work fascinated you as you poured over each document.  This was what you adored doing – reading through old documents and trying to piece together their history, their meaning.  Lost in your work, you scribbled various notes on the parchment provided.  You barely noticed the other scholars as they worked – purely focused on the task in front of you. 

The history on magical artifacts and the memoir that required translation were relatively easy work.  You completed them both quickly with a little help from various books in the library. 

The spell, however, required extra care.  You had done some preservation of spell books in the past, likely why Helion had assigned you the task, but the document was greatly damaged.  The writing was hard to decipher in certain areas and some portions had been ripped off.  It took you a long time matching the writing to the script in various spell books before you could even figure out the author.  By your estimations, the document was likely thousands of years old, belonging to an old fae.

Once you had discovered the author, you were able to piece together some of the scribbled writing using clues from the author’s other spell books on file.  The missing portions would be harder to decode, but you had leads on which each missing portion likely contained.  It wasn’t perfect, but it was a good start.

You hadn’t noticed Helion had returned, too lost in your own work, until he was leaning over your shoulder, reading through your notes.

“You think the spell is the work of Xavius?” Helion asked casually, his honeyed voice dripping with curiosity.  You jumped slightly at the sound of his voice and his proximity.  A blush crept over your cheeks.

“Oh, um, yes.  I believe so, my lord,” you mumbled, embarrassment coursing through you.  Your timid nature, causing you to second guess yourself in front of the High Lord.

“Are you sure?” Helion asked, leaning even closer to you as he peered down at your work.  Helion seemed to have no qualms about personal space.

You nodded, not quite able to bring yourself to look at the High Lord’s face.  Your features were still warm from your blush. 

“I cross-referenced Xavius’s other texts.  The handwriting matches as does the syntax, and the state of the parchment seems to suggest that it was from around the same time that Xavius’s other spell books were written,” you told Helion, trying to appear confident in your work despite how uncertain his proximity made you feel. 

Helion hummed in approval as he grabbed the text to compare it to the spell book you had pulled. 

“You’re right,” he said after a moment.  “Perhaps tomorrow I can have you look at some other lost spell texts we have yet to identify.  Maybe you will have some luck with those as well.”

You blushed at Helion’s words, at the idea that he might have been pleased with your work.  You nodded at him, dipping your head into a slight bow as he moved on to talk with other scholars.

When you completed your work for the day, you grabbed your satchel and headed towards the doors of the library. 

“Good work today,” Helion told you as you passed him, his words instantly causing your cheeks to alight in a deep blush. 

…

The following months passed quickly as you worked in the library.  Helion had assigned you various spells to identify and preserve as best you could.  He seemed to take a special interest in your work, always asking you about your progress.  You were barely able to answer his questions without blushing, the intensity of the High Lord’s attention always making butterflies dance in your stomach. 

You loved the work.  You adored being able to read the old texts and piece together who may have written them and why.  Each spell was like a personal challenge, a puzzle for you to solve. 

The other scholars were easy to work with, but you didn’t seek their company beyond your work hours.  When you finished for the day, you hurried home to do some personal reading.

One night, after Helion had given you a batch of new spells to identify, you were packing up your things to head home.  You hadn’t made much progress on the spells, and you could sense that time was of the essence for this particular group. 

You heard footsteps approaching your table, and you knew it was Helion before you even looked up.  There was something about the way he carried himself, the way he moved through a room, that made him easy to identify.  You had also been harboring a small crush on the High Lord, enamored by his intelligent mind and endless curiosity that mirrored your own.  Though, you refused to let it get out of hand, knowing a High Lord would never be interested in a shy, ordinary fae such as yourself.

“I know tomorrow is your day off, but is there any chance you would be able to come in?” Helion asked, drawing your eyes to his.  A single look in his amber eyes had you blushing.

“Of course, my lord.  I would be happy to come in tomorrow,” you told him because you had no plans other than reading in the comfort of your bed.  You were eager to have another crack at the spells you had been working on today.

“You’re sure?” He questioned, eyes searching your face to ensure you didn’t feel obligated on your day off.  When you nodded, he gave you a warm smile and said, “Alright then, it’s a date.  I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” 

With a wink, Helion left you blushing at his words, unable to think past the word date.

…

When you arrived the next morning, you found Helion sitting at your usual table in the library with a tea tray sitting next to him.

“Good morning,” Helion greeted with a grin, his charm and cheeriness clearly not affected by the early hours of the morning.

You gave him a small smile back as you set up your documents.  Helion was already looking over a few as he sipped his tea.

When he noticed you eying the tea in his hand, he gave you a smile.  “The documents have all been spelled, don’t worry.  There won’t be any spill damage on my watch.”  You nodded, wishing it wasn’t so easy for the High Lord to read your thoughts.  You wondered what else he could read just from your expression.

You settled into your work across from Helion, trying to ignore his presence and the way he made your heart beat a few paces quicker than usual. 

Whenever Helion found something, he would draw your attention so you could look it over.  He had an easy way about him and was good at sharing information easily.  You wished it was so natural for you to talk with others.

“Shall we take a break?” Helion asked after a few hours of work.  You had made good progress already.  The two of you were able to quickly piece together the authors of each spell and worked well together at identifying missing information. 

You nodded as Helion waved his hand and a new tray appeared with small sandwiches and refreshments.  “Please, help yourself,” he told you with a smile. 

As you ate quietly, you could feel Helion’s attention on you.  You tried not to let it faze you, desperate to stop the flush that always graced your features when Helion looked at you.

“So, tell me a little bit about yourself,” Helion said after a moment, his words dripping with all the charm you had seen him exude on multiple occasions.  It was strange to hear him use it on you.

“There’s not much interesting to say,” you told him with an easy shrug.  Nothing about you would interest a High Lord.

“I find everything about you very interesting,” Helion told you, and when you looked up at him with slightly widened eyes, you could tell that he was being genuine.  You swallowed, not sure what to say. 

“Well,” you said after a moment, voice unsure as you looked at the High Lord in front of you who gave you an encouraging nod.  “I like to read,” you told him. 

Helion smiled at you.  His grin was as warm as the sun, as welcoming as a summer’s day.

“And what do you like to read?  Beyond ancient spell texts, of course,” Helion asked with a smile and a rogue wink.  Everything about his attention made you feel warm.

You told him of your favorite authors, your favorite books.  You almost expected him to tease you, to laugh when you told him what you enjoyed, but Helion just regarded you with warm, gentle eyes before he told you that he had read them all and enjoyed them too.  The idea of sharing an interest with Helion seemed crazy to you, but it was nice.  You hadn’t spoken to someone new about things you enjoyed in a long time.

…

When you returned the next day, you found three books sitting on your table.  These weren’t the kind of historical texts or spell books you typically used for work.  Instead, they were novels – similar to the ones you had told Helion you enjoyed. 

On top of the pile sat a note in beautiful script:

I enjoyed these.  I hope you enjoy them too.  Let me know when you finish them, we can have tea and discuss.

                                                                                             Yours,

                                                                                                       H

The idea that Helion had thought of you last night and had selected these books for you made your heart warm and your cheeks redden.  You didn’t even let your mind consider the fact that he had signed the letter “yours.”  After all, he was the High Lord, and you were nothing but a scholar.

…

You devoured the books Helion had given you.  Each one was perfect.  They were exactly the kind of novels you enjoyed, each with a slightly different twist. 

You knew Helion had told you to tell him when you were finished, but you couldn’t find the words the next few times you saw him.  You were never good at that sort of thing.  You also wondered if he had really meant it or if he was just being polite.  You couldn’t imagine why he would want to spend extra time with you.

About a week after you finished reading them, a new note appeared on your desk.  It read:

Have you finished yet?

                                                                                             Yours,

                                                                                                       H

You looked up to find Helion’s golden eyes on you, watching you in question from where he sat across the library.  You gave him a shy nod and he smiled back.

Another note appeared before you, sent by the Spell Cleaver himself.

Stay for tea tomorrow after your shift?

                                                                                             Yours truly,

                                                                                                       H

You looked up again and nodded, a small smile forming your lips.  Helion sent you his signature grin.  The sight of it alone made your cheeks heat.

…

The next day, as you wrapped up your work, you couldn’t help but feel nervous anticipation as you waited for the other scholars to head out so you could meet with Helion.  You still didn’t know why he had even asked you to tea in the first place.  Who were you to share his valuable time?

When the other scholars had left, Helion met you at your table.

“Ready?” He asked, offering you his arm.  You took it shyly as he smiled down at you.

Helion led you to a warm sitting room in the palace.  It was beautiful with soft couches and a fireplace anchored by large bookshelves.

“So did you like them?” Helion asked as he plopped down easily on one of the sofas.  You couldn’t help but laugh at him, at the ease with which he moved through the world.

“I did,” you confirmed, tucking a piece of stray hair behind your ear.  Helion seemed to track the movement. 

“And which one was your favorite?” He pushed, his plush lips forming a grin.  He was effortlessly beautiful.

“I liked them all,” you told him with a shrug, and Helion rolled his eyes. 

“I know there are opinions in there, darling, you don’t have to hide them,” Helion told you with a smirk as he offered you tea. 

You took a deep breath, trying to find the courage that often left you in social situations.

“Well,” you said, your voice dripping with uncertainty, before you met Helion’s eye.  He was smiling at you in the gentlest, most encouraging way.  His expression, the way he regarded you with such kindness, such gentleness, forced the words out of your throat.

The next thing you knew, the two of you were laughing together about all the best and worst parts of each of the novels.  You hadn’t let yourself be this open with someone in a long time, if ever, but you found Helion easy to talk to.  When he was looking at you, you never felt judged.

…

Helion continued to send you books in the following weeks.  Each time you’d finish, he would invite you for tea and you’d spend hours listening and chatting about each book.  After a while, talking to him, opening up, became easy. 

Slowly, your conversations drifted away from just the books.  He seemed to know exactly how to get you tell him something about yourself without scaring you off.

One night as you were discussing one of the books Helion had lent you, you found him staring at you with wide eyes. 

“What?” You asked, slightly uneased by his expression.

“There’s a party tomorrow at the palace.  I have to go, High Lord duties and all,” Helion told you with a smile and a small roll of his eyes.  You nodded as you had heard some of the other scholars were going.

“Come with me, as my guest,” Helion said, his voice almost a plead.  You gaped at him, your brain not processing his request.

“Um, parties aren’t really my scene,” you told him, your cheeks burning.

Helion nodded, giving you an understanding smile.

“I know, and I get if you don’t want to come, but I want you there.  I want you to be there with me.”  Helion’s words were so gentle, almost loving as he looked at you with his amber eyes.

“I don’t know,” you told him, the idea of being on the High Lord’s arm in a crowd of people slightly terrified you.  Besides, you couldn’t imagine that he would really want you there over all the other beautiful fae who seemed to flock to him.

“I would be with you the whole time, and we could leave if you felt overwhelmed,” Helion told you as he moved closer to you so that he could take your hand in his.  The contact made you suck in a breath.  You didn’t know how to process anything.

“Why me?” You asked, your voice unsure. 

Helion smiled at you as he brought his hand up to cup your cheek gently. 

“I enjoy spending time with you.  I think you really are the most interesting fae I have ever met.  And the most intelligent.  And the most beautiful.”  Helion’s voice was as soft as the contact of his hand against your cheek.  You couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eyes.

“You don’t mean that,” you whispered, not knowing how to believe him. 

Helion moved closer, pressing his lips against yours in a gentle kiss.  The contact of his warm lips against yours was sweet, loving.  You let out a slight whimper at the feeling and you could feel how the sound made Helion tense, how it made him want to deepen the kiss.

Instead, however, he pulled away and looked into your eyes.