#and then finally pick up the next trilogy

[thecoffeetragedy]

I should read the ronan/dreamer trilogy because I care a lot about adam parrish but tbh I probably won’t because I only care about adam parrish

[the-halfling-prince]

Me: anyway here's the horror book I'm writing and-

Also me: You hate horror? You like never watch horror movies because you're scared of getting jump scared.

Me: leave me alone

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the pained peace treaty

fused with the foe, chapter one

a/n: oh wow, i have no idea how to introduce this beast of a story except to say hi, hello, welcome! i really hope you enjoy this story, as well as the rest of the trilogy, idk if i've ever gone as in depth and all out with any story as i have with these.

summary: “now, everything is already set into motion, so we don’t have time for any of your theatrics,” not looking you in the eye, he frostily told you, “you are to be married. A carriage has just arrived a few minutes ago to pick you up and transport you to Eflorr.”

warnings: king!steve rogers x reader, fantasy AU (monsters, but not much magic), original fantasy world, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, slow burn, innocent!reader, abusive father (like super bad. he is a garbage person), wedding, blood, injury

word count: 4813

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“Your majesty, I must warn you, if, gods forbid, our people come to discover the great lengths you’ve been willing to go in this disagreement over the past two decades, they might start an uprising. And if you keep going, then it’ll turn into a full-blown war and you know our kingdom wouldn’t be able to survive that, not with them. Our city’s walls may be high, high enough to keep out any beasts that may wander this far south, but it wouldn’t keep them out. You know better than most how people from Eflorr are. If you don’t wanna lose your crown, one way or another, then I’d strongly advise that we come up with some peace treaty.”

“I know, I know…” King Ivan leaned back in his gilded throne with a huff, the quality of his voice was as thin as his towering frame, “a trade I think should suffice.”

A different advisor then timidly pipped up, “but our mines ran cold ages ago, what could we possibly offer that would be satisfactory?”

Not lifting his cold gaze, the king stared at a fixed spot on the marble floor as he said, “I know one thing the king lacks that we may be able to provide for him… a wife.”

“A wife–,” both of the men’s eyes grew wide, “but do you mean–, your majesty, she is your only daughter, are you certain this is the fate you want her to have? Those people are barbaric! If one of the dangers that rule the north doesn’t get to her first, one of their citizens surely will. Sire, what if history repeats itself?”

“Then let it do so. In fact, perhaps this could have been her purpose all along and I just didn’t realise it. Couldn’t see past my own rage to grasp how useful she actually could be…”

Sharing a nervous glance, one of the advisors asked, “should we send for her? See if she agrees with the plans?”

“No, I’ll tell her when the time is right. Wouldn’t want her to do anything stupid and ruin the one good thing she could ever provide,” finally lifting his stony gaze, the king commanded, “make the arrangements, I’ll see to it that she doesn’t ruin it.” 

Deep within the opulent halls of the gilded palace, standing grand and safe behind Ingorn’s tall city walls, twisting up towards the clouds, up in a window in the western tower, there you sat. 

Book in your lap, you leaned back against the small pillow you’d propped behind you to make the wide windowsill more comfortable. Small paper butterflies hung from strings above and some dangled so low that the childhood craft that still decorated your window trickled the crown of your head. Flipping the page, your fingertips brushed down over the illustration that appeared in the agricultural tome you’d found in one of your brothers’ rooms. 

As long as you put it back before Angus returned then you’d probably be good. And if he were to somehow notice, then as long as he didn’t rat you out to your father then it would be alright. Both Angus and a few of the others that were closer to your age, Oliver and Francis respectively, were always a bit of a gamble whether or not they would do such a thing. They didn’t always have the same spirit as the eldest pair of your older brothers, Xavier and Callum. 

You missed them so much your heart ached. The older they got, the longer their diplomatic missions seemed to stretch out, making the quiet palace that much more lonely in your solitude. 

A knock then suddenly boomed at your door, causing you to jump edgily in your seat before you slammed the book shut and nervously stuffed it behind the firm pillow. 

“Come in!” you called out, swiftly straightening out your dress that had crumbled around your legs at the comfortable seat. As the door to your room slammed open, the figure that stood in it caught you by surprise, “Father–, oh, hello,” you straightened your posture that much further at his arrival. 

Skipping over any niceties, King Ivan simply stated, “you need to pack up your stuff.”

Your brows knitted into a fierce furrow, “what?”

“Not everything, of course,” he cast a cold glance around the room though didn’t take a step to enter it, “just the things you are particularly attached to.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” your head lightly shook from side to side, “where am I going?”

When his eyes finally gave you the time of day, it swiftly dropped to the floor as a heavy sigh flowed from his lips, “why do you have to be the spitting image of her…” the muttering was unfortunately just loud enough for your ears to catch. His disappointment was always just loud enough for your ears to catch. When he entered the room and you moved to get up, he swiftly said, “stay seated, Y/n,” before he planted himself next to you on the wide windowsill, “now, everything is already set into motion, so we don’t have time for any of your theatrics,” not looking you in the eye, he frostily told you, “you are to be married. A carriage has just arrived a few minutes ago to pick you up and transport you to Eflorr.”

“To Eflorr?” your gaze grew wide, “you wish for me to marry someone there?”

“Not just someone, you are to marry their king.”

“I–… I–…” your chest rose and fell rapidly beneath your rosy dress, “but father, you can’t–, I can’t go live with the people who killed mom.”

“We don’t know if they actually murdered her. But I do know that you did,” his glare locked upon you as he let himself seethe, “if you hadn’t been born then she’d still be alive,” the fact that the only thing he blamed more for his late wife’s untimely demise then the kingdom she’d perished in was you, remained a point that the sovereign had never been shy about sharing with you for as long as you could recall, “your duty is to protect and serve this land, this crown,” your eyes naturally fluttered up to gaze at the twisted gold balanced upon his head, “if you don’t go through with this, then those savages will come pillage and ruin your home. You are, regrettably, the very last hope this kingdom has of survival. You have no choice, Y/n. This marriage is the only thing that can stop a war we would never survive,” exhaling slowly, he then dominantly nodded in a concluding fashion, “pack your stuff, you have an hour.”

You felt tears sting your eyes as your bottom lip quivered, “an hour? But–, can’t we wait at least a few days before I leave? Can’t I get a chance to say goodbye to at least one of my brothers? None of them are home yet.”

Regret instantly washed over you as your father’s nostrils flared angrily. Seizing your arm in a bruising grip, he yanked you close as he hissed, “you listen, and you listen carefully, you little brat. You have been the bane of my existence ever since you took your first breath. You took away the love of my life. You don’t deserve a goodbye, you don’t deserve anything. Do you think I got a goodbye when your mother suddenly went into labour on that diplomatic mission? No. All I got was you. Not another son, but a living, breathing reminder of what I lost that day,” your eyes squeezed shut as your cheek tingled at the memory of his strikes, “now, be a good girl and go wet his prick, give him a few babies, do anything he’d fucking please, so that him and his barbaric army doesn’t come here and slaughter everything you know and love.”

“Your highness, are you cold?” the high-ranking warden sitting across from you in the carriage noticed the shiver that your body couldn’t seem to shake. 

Tearing your eyes off of the scenery along The Emerald Path that the narrow window granted you a view of, you glanced back at the warrior. The brown hair he had practically tied off at the base of his neck blossomed into a dark beard. A bare palm clasped over an inked one in his lap as you met his gaze and said, “no, I’m–…” in truth, you were scared, so scared that you were trembling like a leaf, but you couldn’t tell the foreign king’s advisor that, too much weighted on your shoulders, you couldn’t screw this up, “no,” glancing back out of the window, you only stared a moment at the sparse cottages that slowly came into view on the rolling hills before you turned your head again and let the nauseating nerves control your words, “pardon me, Barnes, is it?”

“Yes, your highness?”

“Sir, how much further till we get there?” your quiet voice echoed within the carriage, “it’s just–, it’s been days.”

“Oh, not long at all,” he shook his head lightly, “actually,” the knight leaned forward in his seat and cast his glance outside, “if you look out the window now, right there,” a small smile tugged at his lips as his finger shot up to point, “that river, that means we’re getting close to Borün city.”

As the river then suddenly curved before the dirt road, the clomping hooves of the horses that hauled the coach resonated as they trotted over a stone bridge. 

Twisting your head, you glanced out to your right and spotted farmlands curve over the rolling hills that swiftly blossomed into thickets and towering flora you’d only assume was the southern perimeter of The Noll Woods. Books about this kingdom had been banned in your homeland for as long as you could remember, but even though you were essentially going in blind, you still weren’t completely ignorant when it came to the dangers that called that sprawling forest its home, not that you were an expert in the slightest, but your brothers had from time to time told you tales of the monsters who dominated in this part. From giant and twisted insect-like creatures, to mischievous pixies, to even the rare dragon, those stories had always been your favourite. Apart from the rare occasion where Callum would share stories with you about your mother. Being the eldest, he was the only one who truly remembered her. 

Instinctively, your fingers fluttered up to fiddle with the opalescent stone that hung from a chain around your neck. In the middle of the milky jewel was a small rune engraved into it. You had no idea what it meant, but your fingers had still traced the carving countless of times before as it had hung from your neck for as long as you could recall. It hadn’t been till you were a ways into your teens that you’d come to discover that it had belonged to your mother. 

Casting your glance out the other side as you passed a tall watchtower, behind the wide city stables unfolded a port town so quaint that it surprised you. Over the small valley of gabled roofs towered a central tree, and beyond all of that, the sparkle of the sea caught your eye, a sight you’d never beheld before, haven not only stemmed from a landlocked metropolis, but also not haven been permitted to leave your room as much as your heart had desired. 

“This is Eflorr?” you asked as the carriage began to roll up the winding path to the stone castle that loomed on the cliff, granting you a new view of how the river that you’d crossed slid through the city and spilt into the ocean.

“This is Eflorr, your highness,” the corners of his lips twitched at the sight of how wide your curious eyes were. 

“It’s–… it’s–…” your stare danced over the lush ivy that climbed the solid towers, “not what I expected…”

“What did you expect?”

Tearing your gaze away from the window, you blinked, “oh, I didn’t mean–,” suddenly worried that your shock had come out sounding rude, “I just–… I don’t know a lot about this land,” in the few tales you’d heard about this place, there had been a running gag that the people of Eflorr had lived so close to the dangerous beasts that called this part of the continent their home that they too had turned into monsters, “it’s just different than I imagined.” 

Ascending the jagged hill and passing through the front gate, it opened up into a wide courtyard before you felt the carriage finally roll to a stop. 

The wagon creaked gently as Barnes stepped out first, though when his boots were firmly on the cobblestone, his frame twisted as he reached an outstretched hand back for you to grasp in support of your own exit. Ever so apprehensively, you slid your own palm into his as your other twisted in your long skirts before you slipped out of the carriage. 

Letting go of his gasp, the soldier's low timbre washed over you as your head tilted back to take in the vast stronghold, “his majesty, unfortunately, couldn’t be here for your arrival as there was a bit of a dryad problem further up north he had to take care of,” you gaze tore away from the fort and fell upon him, “but I assure you he should be back in time for the wedding.”

“Oh, alright,” you breathed, unsure if that fact made you feel better or worse about the entire predicament.

“If you’d like, I can give you a brief tour of the castle,” he offered as he led you towards the main entrance into the castle proper, “or if you’re exhausted after the journey, then I can just show you directly up to your chambers.”

Offering him a polite smile, you nodded, “a tour would be lovely, thank you.”

He only briefly went over the buildings surrounding the courtyard you’d entered into, as they were mainly designed as barracks and various other facilities for the local wardens, though the horses that stuck their heads out of the royal stalls in the corner did catch your eye before you moved on inside. 

Barnes’ voice echoed in most of the chambers he showed you in the castle’s western wing. The vast stained-glass windows that were in the ballroom for instance took your breath away as you saw how the light streamed through them and warmed up the room with glittering little rays of colour. 

Behind the great halls, squeezed in between and connecting the two major parts of the fort, there you crossed through a much more quiet and lush courtyard. The pebble paths that curved around the central fountain too curled around various topiary bushes that were trimmed to perfection like living sculptures. 

Though as your guide showed you the eastern wing that crested over the foaming sea below, your curiosity got the better of you. 

“Hey, Barnes?”

Slowing his leisurely stride, he tilted his head slightly, “yes, your highness?”

“What are dryads?” your brows knit lightly together, “you mentioned there was a problem with them, but what are they?”

“You don’t know?” he glanced over at you, clearly trying to mask his surprise as you shook your head, “oh, well, they are forest spirits, nymphs,” he explained as you roamed deeper down a broad hallway on the second floor, passing many private chambers both to your right and your left, “it’s not uncommon for them to wander and bother the folks who live further up the coast. Have you never encountered one? They are not as uncommon in Obelón as most of the other creatures that thrive this far north.”

“No, I’ve never seen one…” you shook your head as a low sigh flowed from your lips, “never really seen anything…”

“Not much of an outdoorsy person?” he guessed in a light-hearted tone. 

Forcing a smile, you replied, “you could say that…” as you hadn’t been allowed to be one even if you wanted to. Passing a set of double doors that stood wide open, the sight inside made you halt your steps, “is this the library?”

Shadowing you as your feet crossed the threshold, he nodded, “yes, it is,” then pointed back over his shoulder, “and your quarters are right down that hall.”

Numerous grand bookcases stood lined up all the way down to where a tall window allowed the sunlight in and let it stream through the rows. 

“Can I–… would it be alright if I read some of them?” 

“Of course, your highness.” 

“Would you mind showing me which ones I’m allowed to read?” you briefly peeked back at him as a bubble of anxiety fluttered in your belly, “I don’t wanna accidentally read something that I’m not allowed to.”

Barnes then blinked back at you a moment before he uttered, “your highness, you can read each and every one of them if you’d like. Why wouldn’t you be allowed to read whatever you wish? They are yours after all, or will be after the wedding,” the corners of your lips twitched upwards as he then asked, “would you like to peruse the titles now or do you want to see your chambers?”

“Oh, uhm,” you tore your gaze away from the tomes and turned back, “I’ll look later.”

“Alright,” he nodded, extending his inked arm to show you the way. As he pushed the heavy wooden door open to the room at the very end of the hall, his voice rang out once more, “this is the peacock suite,” following him inside, he settled to a stop near the exit for you to explore the space on your own, “you can, of course, change anything you’d like for it to match your taste.”

“Thank you,” you breathed as you slowly made your way deeper into the chamber. It was gently divided with a more formal area towards the front where both tufted couches and a crackling fireplace stood, as well as a set of doors that opened up to a quaint balcony. Towards the left, under a swirling archway, twisted a broad canopy bed up towards the tall ceilings, warm with blankets and furs, and in the corner, by a breezy partition, stood a deep cobber bathtub.

Haven not noticed that he’d moved, you then heard as Barnes creaked the doors to a close, “if you need anything, anything at all, I’ll be right outside.”

With a loud creak, the heavy double doors opened before you and revealed the grand hall. As soft music gushed out, you nearly didn’t recognise the space from your tour the other day as it was now decorated with vibrant flowers and flowing banners that dropped down from the high ceilings above, as well as being completely packed with a swarm of people. A thin path parted the giddy crowd right down the middle towards the opposing grand door that guards opened simultaneously to yours. 

A shaky breath filled your lungs as you stared at the man crossing over the threshold. The flickering candlelight caught the honeyed shine of the locks that came down to tickle the nape of his neck. A bit darker, his short beard was full and warmed up the bottom half of his gruff features. He sure looked like a man who could slay a kraken with his bare fists, as the soft fur cloak that draped over his shoulders did not conceal his bulky physic one bit. The neckline of his indigo tunic stretched low enough for you to see the concave of his fuzzy chest and the impressive battle scars that broke up the rippling flesh. 

You’d seen the portrait of the king that hung in the hallway that stretched up towards the throne room, but to see him before your very eyes, in flesh and blood and not precise paint, was something else entirely. 

The long and embroidered train of the blue silk kirtle you wore dragged across the store floor behind you as both you and the monarch slowly stepped into the chamber to join in the very middle. 

The enchanting music stopped as you reached one another and the parted paths to either exit slowly closed as the crowd gathered and enclosed around the sacred vow that was about to ensue. 

Parting the sea of people like a divine force, an elderly woman, with a braided grey mane so long that it hit the floor, stepped up beside the both of you. 

“People of Eflorr,” the crone’s calm voice boomed, “today marks a day of unity, a day of peace, and most of all a day of love. Like a seed planted in the soil, tonight we will all witness this relationship blossom and go on the journey of growing into a magnificent tree, with roots strong enough to endure any storm, to propagate new seedlings that will watch over and shade our kingdom when yours have fallen.” 

Looking to the king, she handed him a small dagger from her belt and spoke, “blade across skin,” and he reached out for your right hand, “strike out your seedling’s love line,” your breath hitched as you felt him slice the top of your palm. Crimson blood trickled down onto his own hand as yours rested atop it, “and claim it as your own,” he flipped the blade around and handed it to you, before presenting you his own palm, open in yours. He didn’t even blink as you hesitantly pierced the calloused skin and traced the line already adoring his broad palm, “weave your lines together, so they become the same,” he then moved to clasp your hands together, his wide grip engulfed yours completely. Your teeth sank into just the faintest bit of your bottom lip at the fresh sting of your wound as it bled into his, “and may this scar serve you as a reminder, of the vow you made on this momentous day.” 

And as the last of the matron's words flowed from her lips so did the roar of celebration that erupted throughout the crowd as the festivities of the night bloomed at an instant.

The feast had been nothing short of immaculate. Countless of dishes had been spread out on the crowded banquet tables ranging from the savoury braised legumes to the sweet and shiny pies. It was an impossible task to try and taste every one of them, but an excuse you still used to stay glued to your seat and not get up and mingle with the boisterous gathering of strangers. 

As a stark contrast, you thought you only noticed the king take two bites before he rose to greet some latecomers who had arrived. Laughing and chatting with the sea of people, he hadn’t offered you a single word, barely even a brief glance the whole night. Though your gaze still followed him from your seat up at the high table as he moved through the crowd like they were all his dearest friends. 

When the moon had floated up to be high in the sky, clearly visible on the other side of the stained glass, your head had dropped down into a propped-up palm as a deep yawn forced its way out of your frame. 

“Are you tired, your majesty?” a deep timbre suddenly found your ears, a specific tone that caused your spine to straighten out at once. 

Whipping your head to your right, your weary eyes grew wide as you saw the king again at his seat, “no, I’m alright,” you hastily coughed out, “I’m so sorry for behaving like that in your presence. This party is exquisite.” 

“It’s alright, you can yawn,” you suddenly felt the need to look away now that his ocean stare was finally fixed upon you, “it’s late, I was about to retire for the night as well, so I can only imagine how you must feel. If you’d like, I could escort you back to your chambers. I’m not sure how familiar you’ve become with the castle since you’ve arrived, but even I can still get lost when the corridors are this dark and I’ve indulged in perhaps one too many goblets of wine.”

A flutter of nauseating nerves rushed within your belly, but even so, you still pushed through and forced a smile, “if that’s what the king desires, then sure, you can escort me.”

It was your wedding night. You knew what was about to happen. 

Or, actually, you didn’t quite know what the marital act entailed, but you were sure a man such as Steve had enough of an understanding to take charge. All you knew was what little you’d been told. To strip down naked, not whine or scream, and do as he tells you. 

The soaring butterflies within you only grew more ferocious as you followed his long stride throughout the castle. Out of the ballroom and through a cold stone hallway, when you crossed the bridge that linked the two wings over a part of the cliff that descended dramatically, you nearly doubled over the parapet to empty your stomach over the town of Borün that blossomed below. 

But with a shaky intake of breath, your fist closed around the silk of your skirt as you settled yourself and forced your feet to keep moving. Even as you passed the threshold into the eastern part of the castle, you still shadowed the monarch up the many steps until his broad palm held the door to your chambers open for you to enter. 

The fire had been lit while you were gone, and the room was encased in the warm glow. 

“Did, uh…” you heard the door close behind you as the king attempted a bit of small talk, “did you have a nice time tonight?” 

“I did, your majesty,” you kept your answer brief out of fear that he’d hear the tremble to your tone. 

Slowly turning his back to you, his gaze washed over the room, “are you pleased with your bed chambers?” he settled to face the balcony, the door slightly ajar to let the night breeze seep through and rustle the sheer curtains, “because if you don’t like it, if you’d rather have a view of the town then the sea, then that’s an easy problem to fix.” 

“I think the view is just fine from here, but thank you,” you answered politely as you gathered up the last bit of your courage and reached back to undo the long row of buttons that went down the spine of the light blue dress. 

When the silky garment dropped to the floor, the quiet rustle was enough to draw the king’s attention.

First offering you just a quick glance over his shoulder, he then swiftly whirled around completely, “what are you doing?”

Weaving your fingers in the thin material of your chemise, you blinked back at his stunned features, “I’m sorry, am I doing it wrong?” sure that he could already see everything through the sheer, white fabric. 

His feet didn’t move as he asked, “what are trying to do?” before he averted his gaze to the stone floor. 

“Well,” you uttered quietly, “it’s our wedding night.”

“Oh…” was all he breathed. 

“To be transparent, I’m actually not quite sure what’s to happen, but I do know it’s something,” reaching up, you took the gold and twisted circlet, that crowned your head, off and carefully sat it down on the side table to your left, “I don’t know the details, I just know that I should strip down. Do you know what we’re supposed to do?”

“Fuck,” he cursed, briefly squeezing his eyes shut, “yes I do, but, your majesty, please, keep your clothes on,” his gaze flickered back to you as you slowly began to hike up the last layer. 

“Why?” your fingers froze, “isn’t it a tradition here for us to–”

“Well, yes, but–…” he let out a strained sigh before slowly stating, “I’m gonna go.” 

A chill crawled up your skin, “…oh, I see…” you uttered quietly as he crossed the room, “did I do something wrong?”

Halting in the doorway as he ripped it open, “no, you–…” but the rest of his words crumbled as his gaze settled upon you one last time, instead letting a low sigh flow from his lungs, “sleep well,” and added nearly subconsciously just before the door slammed shut, “goodnight, dove.”

Even though a wave of relief washed over you, a sting of hurt also followed suit as the king left. 

Had you done something wrong, or did he just find you that repellent, that hideous, that he refused to perform his marital duties?

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[phoenixblair666]

It Only Takes One Second: A Logan Howlett X Fem!Reader Story

This story takes place in the X-Men trilogy. It's a romance between Logan and Fem!Reader, where the reader goes through a traumatic experience that allows her mutant powers to emerge. She goes to Xavier's school in search of sanctuary but finds Logan instead. When He helps her learn how to use and control her powers, he creates a valuable new member of the X-Men, but what started as helping a new recruit find their footing, turns into a blossoming romance.

Authors Note: This story will be in multiple parts. As of now how many parts, is to be determined. The story starts off slow, but additional parts will be added. Enjoy! ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Word Count: 1,207

Reading Time Approximately: 5 Minutes

WARNINGS: Mentions of Traumatic experiences (Car crash), Mentions of Anxiety, Mentions of Hospitalization

(Part: 1) How It All Started

˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚ ˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .

Driving has always given you a sense of peace. That certain feeling of highway hypnosis was more than welcomed; the cool breeze in your hair, the gentle warmth from the sun shining through your windshield, and classic tunes fit for a twenty-three-year-old woman playing through your out-of-date stereo.

You never feared the long roads during these trips, nor did you fear where they would take you. Living in a van had its perks. One day you may want to lie beachside, lemonade in hand, the next you're driving through the Rocky Mountains, taking in the natural sights. Today that feeling changed.

Screeching tires echoed through the twined peaks on either side of you, the smell of burnt rubber filling your vehicle. You tried to take control of the wheel as best you could, but the invisible ice covering the pavement made it incredibly difficult. Your car swerved one way, then the next before the sound of metal against metal was heard, airbags deploying, scraping your face, leaving first-degree burns against your skin. Now you were airborne, freefalling off the side of a mountain. Time feels as if it slows as you watch the raging river below get closer and closer with each second.

Then it happens. Suddenly your body senses the air surrounding you. The way the gaseous molecules float freely, only parting ways when they touch your solid form. You can feel the vibrations from each of these molecules not on your skin but deep within your muscles, a sensation that is completely foreign to you.

The car is only a few yards away from crashing into the aggressive waters when your body begins to use the surrounding air as leverage, and you begin to float on your own accord. It's not gravity lifting you from your seat, but it's you, manipulating the natural resource. Everything happens too quickly for this newfound ability to be of use, and before you know it your car is making an impact with the water. The surface of the river is like concrete against the metal, crushing the hood to your knees. Your windshield shatters, allowing water to flood the interior of the vehicle, and then everything goes black.

══════════════════════════════

The smell of rubbing alcohol and soap is the first thing your senses pick up, then the constant beeping in your ears. Your fingers feel the rough texture of fabric as you weakly grip a set of white sheets. All of your senses slowly come back, one by one, acclimating you to your surroundings. Finally, your eyes flutter open. Your vision is blurry, but you can see the bright fluorescent lights shining down on you. You blink hard, trying to make the rest of the room visible, succeeding when you begin to notice the objects around you. A countertop with a sink, an empty armchair, medical posters, and IVs wrapping around your arm with a small needle filling your body with a plethora of drugs.

Just like the rest of your senses, the unfamiliar buzzing in your muscles returns. Once again, you feel the sheer power of the surrounding air in your body. This is a sensation that is completely new to you, it is frightening. Your heart begins to quicken, and the machine next to you detects the rapid pulse, alerting nearby nurses. You begin to paw at the IVs that adorn your arm, ripping the needle from your skin and discarding it on the floor, allowing liquid to pool on the clean white tiles. Your body begins to hover as you panic, lifting a few feet above the bed. A nurse opens the curtain that led into your room, gasping at the sight before him.

As you float, the feeling of uncertainty washes over you. Everything that was happening to you in this moment was unnatural, almost alien. The fact that you survived the horrible crash the day before, and now you can fly without trying, was some sort of strange miracle.

Nothing in your life has been or will be the same since this day.

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The sign against the brick wall was a clear indicator that you had reached your destination. You had heard from one of the doctors a few weeks ago that there was a place for 'You people' that acted as a sanctuary. Until then you had heard few stories of mutants, let alone seen one for yourself. And now here you are, standing at the entrance of Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. You inhale sharply, feeling a ball sit in your chest, all worries flooding your mind at once.

Hesitantly you take one heavy step forward, then the next. Gravel crunches under your combat boots as you make your way to the large mansion-turned-school. Two large oak doors decorate the front of the classic old building, and an elegant porch covers them, while vines grow upwards against the brick, some even covering the many windows that adorn the structure. A large water fountain sits in the middle of a rounded driveway, and different types of foliage surround the man-made body of water.

What was once gravel turns into a stone path, leading to the driveway. Your steps become more wary as you approach the stairs of the porch. The unknown sits behind the oak barriers, making your heartbeat thump against your ribcage. A few more steps and you are right in front of said barrier. Lifting your arm had proven to be more difficult than expected as thoughts raced through your skull. Despite this, the rough skin against your knuckles meets the solid object with three small knocks.

Your anxiety spikes as you wait for someone to answer. You almost don't notice that you're holding your breath, barely able to remind yourself to keep breathing. One of the doors swings open, making you jump at the abrupt motion. A tall man peers down at your shorter self, eyeing you intently. His hair is pitch black and came to two catlike peaks at the top, with facial hair that hugs his jaw but stopped above his lip and chin, leaving only a small amount of stubble. His eyes are a light hazel color, resembling two rounded drops of honey and his body is quite built. He wore a white, wife-pleaser that showed every muscle under his lightly tanned skin, along with a dark blue, denim pair of jeans.

Your breath hitches in your throat, as your eyes meet his. The stare lasts longer than you'd like, but when his hardened expression turns curious, you find it easier to find your voice. "Is this Xavier's School for the Gifted?" You ask sheepishly, searching his eyes for a silent response. The man looks you up and down, then to the gate that you had entered from. Once his eyes meet yours again, he smirks. "Do you know how to read?" He questions, lifting an eyebrow. You nod quickly, feeling quite small at the hands of his satirical response. His features change for a third time, and he smiles. "Then I think you're at the right place."

˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:

You try to match his smile, but it comes off as nervous. He chuckles at your shy exterior before opening the door further and allowing you entrance.

Part 2: Nightmares

[seaslugfanclub]

Hello! I just wanna say I really like your Disney Villain writings, they are funny and really cute! Can I request where the Disney villains are fighting over who is Y/N’s favorite villain? I thought it would be funny

Oooh great idea! This one was so much fun to write! (Can you tell that Honest John’s my favorite?)

No, I’m their favorite!!

————————————

No one knows how the conversation subject was brought up, but it more than ruined the villians weekly poker night. Curses filled the air and sidekicks where used as meat shields.

“I’m easily (Y/N)’s favorite person out of all of us, no- this entire park!! No one is better friends than Gaston!!” The Frenchman boasted, loose hair’s flying around his face. “They regularly compliment my physique, and they sneak me in special hair products!! There’s no room for argument!”

“Oh please frenchie, (Y/N) isn’t as daft as the other cast members. They have taste for more refined gentlemen. Like yours truly.” Captain Hook scoffed, ignoring the glares from the other villians. “Might I remind you how they gifted me the entire trilogy of ‘The History of Piracy’? Or how much they enjoy my culinary skills? They have supper with me every Tuesday.” Hook affirmed, more than confident he had bested the competition.

That was quickly interrupted by a swift *bonk* on Hooks head, Jafar looming over the ex- pirate with his staff in hand.

“While I agree with (Y/N)’s taste, it surely isn’t a cowardly captain.”

“Why you-” Hook started, only to be bonked on the head again.

“Why me? Well that’s easy, I’m a very persuasive individual. I’m able to… ‘charm’ those in upper management to give (Y/N) longer breaks, or keep any unsavory park guests from harassing our dear caretaker. (Y/N) obviously favors someone who makes their job easier.”

“Your joking right? Didn’t I see (Y/N) yell at you for 30 minutes straight because you were eyeing that princess Jasmine?” Hades chimes in, finally deciding to butt into the conversation after watching the other villians argue from the sidelines. Jafar stopped speaking, averting his eyes and mumbling.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought. But c’mon guys, you know it’s ya boy here who’s (Y/N)’s number one pal.” Hades points his thumbs towards himself.

“I was one of the first people here who (Y/N) met, we knew each from day uno. I can’t count the amount of times that they’ve kept my shit-ass sun god of a brother from bugging me. And they even made the most adorable altar for me, with pomegranates and the whole works!!”

“Oh, so gauche. If it wasn’t for my expertise (Y/N) wouldn’t be half as stylish as they are. Not to mention our ‘girls nights’. I’ve opened an entire new world of skincare for them!” Cruella hissed. (Actually remembering she had to pick up (Y/N) that special cream made from horseshoe crabs)

A threadbare glove raised amidst the crowd, Honest John appearing from seemingly nowhere

“Im sorry to disappoint you all, but it’s myself who’s won (Y/N) heart. They’ve fallen for my effortless charm lock, stock, and barrel! I mean, I’ve been their nap partner countless a times, they quite enjoy cozying up to my fur.” John preened, smiling back at the memories of warm afternoons snuggled up next to (Y/N).

“Fur!? Why you little- I’ll skin you-”

“Just wait till (Y/N)-”

The poker room devolved into full out brawl, nearby cast members rushing into the room in attempt to break up the crowd. All the while, in an empty back room (Y/N) was sharing a sandwich with their guest.

“Y’know what, Ratigan?” They said between bites. “Your my best friend.”

The rat stared up at them, finishing his bite,

“…. Ew.”

[minaturefics]

Head and Heart

Request: Could I request an Aragorn x Reader fic maybe where they have to separate during the trilogy, and when they’re reunited they both want to confess their feelings but they each think it’s unrequited?

A/N: It's here.... finally here.... I honestly don't think this is my best work, but I've gone over it so many times and I think it's time to just get it out here! I hope you enjoy it all the same, and thank you for your patience. I think I've lost my writing mojo - this might be the last fic in a long time (｡•́︿•̀｡)

Aragorn x Reader

Gender-neutral reader

Non-graphic mentions of wound treatment

6.6k words

---

There was an unsettling sillness to the forest. Darkness curled around the little campsite, only kept at bay by the small fire. There were no croaks or squeaks from the shrubs, no hoots or chirps in the trees. There was not even the slightest whisper of wind to rustle the leaves. Behind you, the company slept, breaths loud in the silence, while you kept watch. The fire had burned low, the warmth of the flames barely reaching your back, and you glanced behind, wondering if you should refuel it, but Aragorn was already kneeling by the smouldering flames, feeding it sticks and twigs.

It had been a tense couple of weeks with the long treks at night and the fitful sleeps in the day, the unyielding wind and the unforgiving landscape, the cool indifference between the emissaries of Gondor — you and Boromir — and Aragorn.

When you had first laid eyes on him at The Council, you had noted his handsomeness — his dark hair, his piercing eyes, his short beard flecked with grey — but then came the revelation of his lineage. So this was the king come to claim the throne of Gondor. This was the man you would have to swear fealty to and serve under. This was the man who would inherit the land and people that the stewards have long since cared for. 

As though sensing your gaze, Aragorn looked up from the fire and met your eyes. He stood, eyes only flickering away for a moment to check on the others, and walked towards you slowly. You straightened, muscles tensing, and he brought his hands up in a placating gesture. 

“Peace,” he whispered. “I have only come to smoke.”

He settled on the ground next to the boulder you were perched on. Strange, for the king to willingly choose the cold earth when there was more than enough space on the rocks nearby, to willingly choose to be lower than you were. 

He brought out a pipe from his pocket, filled the bowl with leaves, and soon the air was filled with the sweet scent of pipeweed. 

“Do you smoke?” he asked around the stem of his pipe.

You shook your head. “Though I am fond of the plant they once used to be. In Gondor, you can smell them in the wind in summer when the flowers bloom. The scent of them followed Boromir and me to the borders of Rohan when we journeyed to Rivendell.”

He hummed. “You and Boromir must be close. There are not many who would be trusted with such a task.”

“We have known each other for many years.” You shrugged. “My family has long been loyal to the stewards of Gondor.”

You glanced at Aragorn, wondering if he had picked up on your subtle dig. It was not the throne, or who might fill it, that you were loyal to. Aragorn may be the heir, but he was still a stranger. And only a fool would trust another so easily, especially when it came to the country’s land and its people.

You expected him to frown, to grow grim and silent perhaps, but instead a small smile pulled on his lips. “I do not think you care for crowns and titles.” He took a long draw from his pipe and blew it out in a steady stream. “Your heart is with the people and the land. I do not think there is anything you would not do for Gondor.”

Your stomach flipped. How had he read you so easily?

“Of course,” you said, irritation rising unbidden within you. “We have lived in the shadow of Mordor for many years. We have supported and defended the people. We have shed sweat and blood for them.”

“I understand,” he said, serious. “I am aware my presence is an uncomfortable one. But we are not enemies.”

“You do not understand. Gondor may be your birthright, Aragorn, but it is myhome.”

“And I swear to you, I will defend her.”

“You swear to me?” You scoffed. “As a king?”

“As a man.”

You met his eyes. The firelight flickered in them, but there was nothing fickle about his gaze. Something stirred in your heart, a softening, an awakening, and you nodded, short and sharp. “Alright.”

-

Aragorn watched you as you tried to cheer the hobbits after dinner. They were seated in a circle around you on the soft moss, between the great roots of the Lothlorien trees, listening to your stories. There was a fire in your eyes, a merriment, a wildness, and warmth in your voice.

“And then,” you said in a hushed whisper and the hobbits leaned in, “Faramir and I pushed him into the river! Oh, Boromir was furious. He crawled right out and dragged the both of us by our ankles and pulled us in with him.”

Pippin snickered and glanced at Boromir who was seated beneath another tree root.

“You should tell them about the time you got stuck in the bell tower!” Boromir called, grinning.

“The bell tower?” Pippin’s head whipped back and you let out a long groan.

Your eyes darted to Aragorn’s, lighting up in surprise, and you flashed him a smile before turning your attention back to the hobbits. His heart gave a little lurch and he grimaced. He did not have time for such things.

Ever since that evening, you were quicker to smile at him, more likely to walk beside him and talk. He had thought  you beautiful before, stoic and stalwart, seated at The Council, but now, thawing, warming, it was like the first flowers of spring beginning to bloom. Beauty was one thing but spirit was another. And he could not help but admire yours. How you tried to encourage the hobbits through the snow on Caradhras, how you helped Gimli up from his knees in Balin’s tomb, how you stood, crying but defiant, after the Balrog took Gandalf. 

He knew, just as well as any, that it must have been grim, gruelling work as a ranger in such times. Many of his men had grown serious and solemn over the years, and a part of him envied the Gondorian rangers for having your light when he had none. 

He glanced down at the forgotten sword and whetstone in his hand. No, whatever fledgling feelings he might have for you had to be halted. He had just barely earned your esteem; it would be madness to think of earning your affection.

“That’s it,” you said, deflating a little, “I’m out of stories.”

Pippin and Merry gave disappointed groans, and Sam and Frodo flashed you grateful smiles. They went off towards their beds, fluffing the pillows and straightening the blankets, and fell into a quiet conversation among themselves. You stood up and wandered in Boromir's direction and he turned his attention back to his sword, running the whetstone along the edge with a satisfying shink. 

He lost himself in the motion, driving away thoughts of Gandalf, thoughts of the ring, thoughts of you. 

“Are you alright?” You asked and he blinked out of his meditative trance. Your eyes were soft and concerned. 

He nodded. “I am just burdened by the future. I am anxious to carry on with our errand.”

“It has been a harrowing few weeks,” you said, coming to join him on the soft ground. “It would do us all some good to rest here under the protection of the elves.”

“We do not have time.”

“We have time for this,” you said firmly. And then more gently, “Aragorn, we have all suffered a great loss. You more than most. You knew Gandalf the longest among us, have you not?”

“I have,” he murmured, the corners of his eyes burning. He sniffed and swiped his tears  away before they fell.

“Would it… would it ease your mind to speak of him?”

He was uncertain anything would ease the tightness in his chest and the hollowness in his stomach. Still, the words flowed from his lips, low and stilted.

“It was Gandalf who introduced me to pipeweed,” he said, memories of the mischievous wizard filling his mind. “Elrond was most displeased.”

You laughed, a hearty, sweet sound, and he let out a long sigh, muscles loosening. 

“He showed me how to fill the bowl and tried to teach me how to blow smoke rings.”

“Can you?”

He smiled a little, remembering sitting next to Gandalf, practising. “Not quite. It is harder than you think.”

“Well, perhaps next time you could show me.”

He nodded absentmindedly and shifted, laying his sword and whetstone aside. His pipe, in his pocket, jabbed him in the thigh with the movement. It would be nice to take a moment, to have a smoke and relax, just like you said. “Or perhaps,” he said slowly, “I could show you now.”

You glanced around, eyeing the ethereal flets high in the trees. “Is that permitted here?”

He grinned. “I’m sure they will permit it. In the memory of Gandalf.”

He prepared the pipe and lit the leaves. The smoke filled his lungs, sweet and soothing, and he leaned back against the tree root. After a few long draws, he attempted the smoke rings. The first few were short lived, more like coughs of smoke rather than rings, and then one or two vaguely ‘O’ shaped.

“Gandalf would be disappointed,” he murmured with a chuckle. 

“Have another go,” you said with a smile.

He inhaled, long and slow, the smouldering leaves glowing. He relaxed, Gandalf’s scolding instructions filling his mind, and exhaled. Two clouds, and then, to his amazement, a perfect smoke ring. 

You grinned at him, eyes bright, and warmth spread through his stomach. 

-

You tugged at the borrowed robes and wished you had some sort of mirror. They were soft and fine, the pale blue fabric iridescent in the starry elvish lanterns. It was gracious of the elves to extend the invitation of a formal dinner to the fellowship, but it seemed like everyone except Legolas and Aragorn felt a little ill at ease at the prospect of dining with the elves.

“Come on,” Boromir called, “we are waiting for you, my friend.”

You smoothed the fabric down and stepped out from behind the changing screen. The rest of the company were standing around, already changed, by the base of the steps. You walked towards them, forcing your eyes to stay trailed on Boromir instead of straying to Aragorn.

No, it did not matter what he thought of you. It did not matter at all.

The past couple of weeks in Lothlorien felt strangely like a dream, a world removed from everything else. Sheltered by the elves and swathed in trees, it seemed as though Aragorn could lay down his sword and rest. It had been odd, seeing him joke with the hobbits, egging their bickering on with his wry comments, or watching him laugh with Legolas while they spoke in Elvish. 

Was this who Aragorn truly was? He had more than shown his valour and strength in the past few weeks, his firm words to Boromir on Caradhras in the presence of the ring, his unwavering patience and calm in Moria, but this… 

Boromir clasped your shoulders and grinned. “You look amazing. These robes are more difficult to put on than our formal wear, but more comfortable I should think.”

You nodded, your eyes darting to Aragorn anyway. His eyes swept over you, expression barely changing as he inclined his head, and continued his conversation with Legolas. Disappointment pooled in your stomach as you followed the rest of them up the stairs towards the dining flet.

 Disappointment? At what? There was nothing to be disappointed about. He was a companion, just another member of the fellowship. It would be a foolish notion to expect his regard of you to change simply because yours of him had.

And what was it that changed it? Some promise of caring for your homeland, some moments of laughter and levity, the shared grief of losing a companion? You shook your head. How could you let yourself be swayed by such things? He was still yet to prove himself a good king.

Dinner was an uneventful affair. The food was good and any dips in conversation were filled in by Legolas who told tales of Mirkwood to the elves. Eased by the wine and bolstered by the delicious meal, Pippin shyly asked if there was to be music and dancing, and the company was led to another flet with musicians. 

The hobbits had paired up, and Legolas, cajoling, baiting, and challenging Gimli, managed to get the dwarf to at least attempt the steps. Boromir and you had stood off to the side, choosing to watch first, and Aragorn was speaking to Haldir. The flutes and the harps were clean and clear, but the hand drum beat more rapidly than you anticipated.

“It is like our waltzes back home,” Boromir said.

“But faster.” Your eyes darted between the pairs, trying to puzzle the steps. “And it is to the beat of four and not three.”

“It is not so different,” Aragorn said. “In practice.”

“You know how to dance?” You turned to him, astonished.

“Of course.” He broke into a smile. “I was raised in Rivendell.”

You blinked at him and looked away. How did you forget? It was so easy, looking at Aragorn, to see the wild, skilled Ranger and forget the noble circumstances of his birth. Yes, he was a king. The disappointment from before corroded through you. Yes, you must not forget that. No matter his trappings — a good man, a good ranger — Aragorn was a king.

And a good man did not necessarily mean a good king. And Gondor… Gondor would need a good king.

Boromir nudged you with his elbow. “You should dance, my friend. You were always better than Faramir and I. Valar knows I’ll trip over my feet with this new music.”

“It has been many seasons since I last danced.”

“It is easy,” Aragorn said, offering his hand to you.

For a moment you stared at his palm, the creases in them still smudged with errant dirt despite the comforts of Lothlorien. The hands of a man who knew strife, who knew work. 

Before you knew what you were doing, you placed your hand in his and he walked you to the edge of the dance. He laid a hand on your waist, large and warm, and stepped closer to you. You could smell him, leather and soap and sweet pipeweed.

“Your other hand on my shoulder,” he murmured, breath rippling the errant strands of your hair. 

He led you through the steps, his fingers flexing on your waist, his voice low and close. You stared at your feet, at his chest, at the trees beyond his shoulder. Your heart sped up and you willed your breaths to lengthen, hoping he could not sense the change in you. 

“You are a good dancer. A quick learner,” he said. 

You nodded, not trusting your words. Warmth radiated from him, and it seemed as though your hand seared with the heat of his skin. He was solid and steady, and so, so close.

The dance was blessedly short, and when the final chord rang out, you stepped back from him, bowed stiffly, and walked away.

-

Aragorn cradled your head, his hand growing wet with your blood, and stared down at your pained face. Your breathing was laboured and erratic. Had they come too late? He glanced up to see Gimli and Legolas bent over Boromir. A black arrow stuck out from his shoulder and he let out a weak groan. Slain orcs lay around the clearing, their crude weapons scattered on the ground, and the hobbits were nowhere to be seen.

He looked back down at you, willing you to open your eyes. He couldn’t help but sweep his thumb over your muddied cheek. “Please,” he whispered. “By the Valar, please.”

How was it that it was only a week or so ago that he held you in his arms, warm and close, cheeks flushed from the dance? He had kept that memory close  in his mind, guiltily revisiting it in the quiet of the night, fingers twitching to reach out across the moss to touch you again. You had been strangely distant since that night. You were polite and friendly, but your glances had become fleeting and furtive and you hardly sought him out to talk in the evenings like you had done before. 

Did you catch a glimpse of the affection in his eyes? Were you discomfited by it? Possibly. Why else would you withdraw from him? Perhaps you felt it would be too risky to reject him outright, given his position as the future king, and thought it would be best this way. 

You groaned, brows furrowing, and mumbled something unintelligible. He whispered your name and to his relief, your eyes fluttered open. “Boromir,” you muttered. “The little ones…”

He looked up and saw Legolas and Gimli tending to Boromir, discussing how to remove the arrow. “He is alive. The hobbits have been taken by the orcs.”

“You need to save them.”

“I need to save you first.”

“There is no time… The Ring…”

“No. I will not leave you here.”

You muttered some garbled swear at him but did not protest when he began to inspect your wound. He parted your hair carefully, fingers combing through the matted strands. It was a fairly large wound, but not deep. At least, nothing that would be immediately fatal. It would have to be cleaned and bandaged properly to prevent infection. Legolas was already starting a fire and Gimli had gone off, presumably to camp to gather water and whatever spare cloths they could use as bandages. 

It was an hour later when you and Boromir were finally fully awake. Your wounds were bandaged but the both of you were pale and weak.

“The little ones,” Boromir said. “You must go after them.”

Aragorn looked at you. Your eyes were glassy and glazed, the collar of your cloak still stained with blood. “We cannot leave you like this.”

“Cannot? Or will not?” you asked, lifting your eyes to meet his. Your gaze was strong and defiant despite the pain. “The hobbits need to be rescued. Boromir and I cannot go on in our condition. We may yet live as we are, but Merry and Pippin do not stand a chance if you do not go.”

He exhaled sharply and glanced away. You were right, of course. But how could he leave you like this? Weak and bleeding, at risk of attack, at risk of infection. What would a good ranger do? What would a good king do?

“We could split,” he suggested uneasily. “I could remain while Gimli and Legolas go ahead.” 

But even as he said those words he knew it was not the best course of action. Gimli and Legolas, as skilled and strong as they were, would not be able to confront a pack of orcs by themselves. One glance at Legolas’ dubious expression confirmed his thoughts. 

“We are not on death’s door yet,” Boromir said with a grim smile. “I doubt that the orcs will return to this place; they already have what they came for. We can rest here for a day or two, then make our way back to Minas Tirith.”

The both of you, alone and injured? There were so many things that could go awry and it would be at least a three or four day journey to the city, longer even, in the condition the both of you were in.

“You know Boromir is right,” you muttered, your gaze steely.

It was then that he felt the way he did the night he spoke to you by the fire. That in your eyes there was a right thing to say or do, and anything else would lower your esteem of him.

He nodded slowly. “But we will not leave you here among these corpses. Let us at least get you back to camp with a fire. It will not take us long.”

You shared a look with Boromir and agreed. Between the three of them, it was quick work to help you back to camp. He would see you again, he knew, he hoped, but even then, as he followed Legolas and Gimli away from the camp, he could not help but look over his shoulder for one last glimpse of you.

-

A cool wind blew through the window of your room at the Houses of Healing, carrying with it the sound of the army marching out to Osgiliath. You pushed yourself up onto your elbows, groaning and wincing, and slumped back against the headboard, craning your neck towards the window. If you could not see Faramir off on his deadly errand, then you would at least watch him from your room. 

How had it come to this? Boromir, delirious and incapacitated with fever and infection. Faramir, sent off to Osgiliath, surely to die. And you, weak and helpless, unable to do anything but watch.

Faramir had said he was relieved that you were not coming with him, that if he and Boromir were to die, he could trust that you would ensure Minas Tirith would be well defended and cared for. 

There was no comfort in that. There was no comfort in all of this. 

Duty and honour and calling. What did anything matter if you were left alone in the world? Without Faramir, without Boromir, without… 

Without Aragorn. 

For a moment, you laid any sort of obligation to your station, to your city and country aside, and allowed yourself to indulge. When did he become someone so close to your heart? How? 

It was all those moments of softness. Those rare moments where he was simply just a man, when he set down the mantle of ranger and king. Like when he smoked with Merry and Pippin, nestled between tree roots, discussing the characteristics of the various pipeweed strains. Or when he devoured one of Sam’s dinners of potatoes and wild mushrooms faster than anyone else, shrugging with amused resignation when everyone stared at him. Or when he sat up with you during your turn as the night watch, talking about his boyhood misadventures. 

And that moment when he had danced with you, his strong arms around you, his grey eyes bright in sparkling lights of Lothlorien. He had smelled like soap and cedar, and you were close enough that you could smell the sweet wine on his breath when he spoke. There was something in his eyes you had not seen before. Tenderness? Affection? 

You shook your head and laughed at yourself. Affection? There was little chance of that. You had challenged him that night by the fire, silently made him work for your respect and approval on the journey. It was necessary, perhaps, to prove to him that as a servant of Gondor you were not so easily swayed by someone who claimed to be king. But as a person, as yourself… There was no way that such behaviour would endear you to him. 

He was friendly enough, yes, but he was friendly with everyone in the fellowship. That was all there was to it. Camaraderie and friendship. And it was not as though he had given any indication of… feeling more. And as king, he would have to select a suitable partner. In Rivendell, there were rumours of his long friendship with Elrond’s daughter. Yes… Someone like her would be suitable. And you…

You would stand by as always, the protector and servant of Gondor, and watch him be happy with another.

The bell tolled and you snapped out of your musings. The army was just leaving the gates of the city, their armour gleaming in the sun. You muttered a silent prayer for them, hoping that Faramir would return whole and safe.

Yes, whole and safe. That was all you would ask for Aragorn too. It did not matter if he did not return your feelings, all that mattered was that you would see him again, healthy and smiling. 

-

The cragged stone walls of the narrow path began to look the same to Aragorn. The horses’ clops echoed off the high walls, and Legolas’ and Gimli’s muffled chatter strangely amplified. The air grew cooler and, somehow, more still as they continued forward. He glanced behind and Legolas gave him a short nod. They would be close to The Paths of The Dead soon. 

Andruil bumped his calf with each step the horse took and he felt for the pommel with his fingers. For so many months he had tried to ignore the truth of his heritage. To the hobbits he was Strider, and to the rest of the company he was simply a ranger. But now… there was no hiding, no denying, what he was. Who he was.

Would the others treat him differently now? Would they see him as other, higher, than they were? The thought of Merry and Pippin, usually so affectionate and playful,  growing distant and formal made his heart ache. Would Boromir retreat back into his position of Captain and Steward, rebuilding the walls that they so carefully took apart on their journey? And you…

He thought back to that night by the fire. He had not missed your subtle dig, your silent display of suspicion, and he had tried to reassure you, to show you that he was just the same as you and Boromir. And over the months it seemed that you had softened, sitting with him while he smoked, splitting your rations with him when he had offered some of his share to the hobbits, sharing amused looks with him when Gimli and Legolas were bickering about something inane. 

You even let him dance with you.

In that moment, he felt that you finally saw him as he was. A man. Just a man. But then your eyes had shuttered and you walked away from him. He sighed. There was no hope for him now. With the sword returned to him and him on his way to invoke the debt as the heir to the throne. You would be lost to him, he knew, the moment he was crowned. 

-

The city was in an uproar — singing, drinking, dancing — celebrating the destruction of the ring. It seemed that ever since Aragorn returned from the Fields of Cormallen, there were always people around him. You had recovered enough to return to your own rooms in the Steward’s House in the citadel, though Boromir and Faramir were still recovering in the Houses of Healing.

Aragorn had stopped by your rooms once, expressing relief and joy at your recovery, but had not come by since. So it had begun, then, the inevitable distancing that would happen. He had proven himself a worthy heir and king, marching with the Rohirrim, going to the Paths of the Dead, facing the Enemy at the Black Gate, just as you wished at the start of the journey. Gondor would be in good hands. But what of yourself and your heart? At the beginning, nothing mattered more than his suitability as king, but now… 

You let out a frustrated huff and shook your head. Maybe a walk would clear such futile thoughts from your mind. Maybe you should go see Boromir, he always had a way of cheering you up. It was a short walk down to the Houses of Healing and you found Boromir sitting up in bed, reading through some documents.

“Ah, my friend,” he said with a smile, setting the parchment aside. “You have good timing. I am sick of these papers.”

You peered at them. “Trade agreements?”

He shrugged. “Faramir and I have decided that he will take the post of Steward, but he still values my input on such things.” He took you in, eyes searching your face. “You are upset about something.”

You opened your mouth to protest but deflated instead. You sank into the chair next to his bed. “I am vexed by something. That is all.”

He stared at you for a moment before the corner of his lips twitched upward. “Is it Aragorn?”

“Why would you ask such a thing?”

He chuckled. “We have been friends for many years now, and have been by each other’s side for months. Besides, I have had my suspicions for some weeks.”

You shifted in your seat. “What suspicions?”

“That perhaps your feelings towards him have changed. Softened. I have seen it with my own eyes. I knew for sure that night in Lothlorien.”

You stared at your hands and sighed. “Even if I admit to it, it matters little. He will not return my feelings, and even if he did, I am not a suitable match for him.”

Boromir threw his arms up. “I know you are stubborn but you are being deliberately obtuse and difficult now.”

You bristled and frowned at him. “Do not tease me, I am not in the mood.”

“First, your argument of unsuitability is nonsense — your family is well regarded in the city, and do not forget your own title as Captain. And second, is it so hard to believe that he might return your feelings?”

“I don’t see why he would,” you muttered petulantly. 

He rubbed his forehead and let out a long breath. “I am not usually one to meddle in such… things, but a man can only take so much. You are not the only one who has come into my room, sulking and moody.” You blinked at him and he shook his head. “Aragorn is one to keep things close to his heart, yes, but even he cannot completely hide what is in his eyes.”

Your heart sped up a little. “What… what are you implying?”

“That there is reason to hope. And that maybe Aragron, like you, feels as though his feelings may be unrequited.” Your brows furrowed. “Ah, do not act confused — do you not remember how cold you were to him at the beginning? And how wary you were in the first weeks?”

“But I have been friendly since then.”

“Maybe so, but I would not fault him for being… careful. Some encouragement would not go astray.”

Encouragement? At the risk of looking like some fool? But Boromir was not one to make up stories, and his assessment of character and behaviour has not led him, or you, wrong so far. Perhaps you could… try. Try to show a little more interest, and see if Boromir was right. 

-

Aragorn leaned back against the cool stone wall and took a long drag from his pipe. He had escaped to some high tower in the Citadel, yearning for the open, unbroken sky, and wishing for a moment of peace. The stars winked above him, shimmering just the same as they did in Rivendell, and a fragrant breeze blew from the plains below. 

In a few days, everything would change. 

He had accepted it the moment they entered the Paths of the Dead. His lineage, his duty. He had known since the beginning that he would eventually return to the throne but those decades in Rivendell, those years of roaming the wilds made it easy to forget. He let out a long stream of smoke, watching the pale white puffs evaporate into the night. He inhaled, relishing the sweet scent of the pipeweed, and on a whim, blew some smoke rings.

He smiled a little, remembering that night with you in Lothlorien. It seemed like a whole lifetime ago. His heart had wrenched in his chest when you had opened the door to your rooms, and you stood, haloed in warm light, safe and whole and real. It had been nearly too much to sit in your rooms, talking and smiling, with you so close. The gravity of the mission and the perpetual looming peril during the journey helped keep his feelings buried, but seeing you at home in your rooms stirred his imagination and images of you, of a future with you, plagued his mind for days. 

He had tried to keep his distance, for his own sanity, but for the last week it seemed as though you were determined to seek him out. With the coronation coming up, it was inevitable that he would see more of you — you were assisting with some of the preparations — but you always lingered to talk when discussions were finished. You urged him to take breaks, suggesting he walk with you in the gardens or courtyards, and you even called on him one evening.

It was… confusing. Were you just being friendly? Or was there more to your actions? He knew he was not a man prone to delusion and it certainly seemed as though your feelings had changed. Warmed. But he wished to know for sure. Could he ask you? Would you be receptive to such a thing?

It felt as though he was running out of time. That his coronation would somehow alter things forever. 

He took another drag of his pipe and closed his eyes. He had faced death at the Black Gate but did he have enough courage to face you? To bare his heart, to be open, for the chance that you might reciprocate?

Yes, he thought, or he would forever regret that he did not. 

-

You rubbed the smooth fabric of the silks you were to wear for the coronation. It shone in the warm light of the candles and you stepped back to admire the handiwork of the seamstresses. Intricate embroidery decorated the hems of the sleeves and the collar, the design more ornate than anything you had worn before, and you traced it with your finger. It was beautiful, something more fit for royalty than one of the nobility, and you had protested, but Aragorn and Boromir insisted upon it.

You sighed and turned away, wandering towards the window. The city spread itself in front of you, the flickering torches on the parapets forming concentric circles leading down to the plains. Aragorn would take a partner eventually. Would they care for the city and Gondor? Would they appreciate her beauty and her people? 

The city was flooded with visitors, the citadel more busy than before housing the dwarves and elves and other nobles. Lord Elrond’s daughter had come with him and your heart shattered at the sight of her. But to your surprise, Aragorn had made no overtures to her. They were friendly, yes, but the little you saw of them together, they seemed more like siblings than lovers. Was it possible that you were mistaken? Or perhaps the elves had a more modest way of displaying affection?

Boromir still continued to insist that Aragorn had feelings for you but the evidence of it felt weak. True, he had taken you up on all your offers for walks, and had talked long with you when you called on him that one evening, and once or twice you thought you had seen the tenderness in his eyes but you could never be sure. Maybe it was too little too late?

There was a knock on the door and you called out.

“It is me,” Aragorn said, his voice muffled through the thick wood of the door. “I know it is late but I wish to speak with you.”

You opened the door and let him in. His eyes flickered towards your clothes hanging on the wall before he focused on you. He was dressed in one of his more casual tunics, still not changed for the evening, and your eyes darted to the open V of his shirt collar. “I am surprised you have not turned down for the evening,” you said, glancing away and gesturing for him to sit by the fire.

“I could say the same for you.”

He joined you on the cushioned bench and stared at the fire. His face was impassive and his jaw was tense. What was so important that he had to see you on the night before his coronation? Were there any last minute changes to be made?

”Aragorn?” you whispered. “What is the matter?”

“I was thinking about our first few weeks together when we left Rivendell,” he murmured. “You were not very fond of me then.”

You nodded slowly, unsure where he was going with it.

“And as you said, Gondor is your home.”

Your stomach lurched. “Aragorn, surely you know I do not hold any reservations about you anymore. If I had caused offence then, I —”

He shook his head. “No, I understood then, and I understand now. But still, given the coronation tomorrow, I simply wanted to be sure.”

“Then let me be clear,” you said, a little exasperated. “My feelings about you as a king have changed.”

He nodded slowly and stared into the fire. It crackled and popped in the silence. You wanted to ask if he had more to say, but something stayed your tongue and you waited.

“And of me as a man?”

“As a man?” You met his gaze and your heart started to thump.

His eyes were unguarded and soft, the silver steel of his eyes warm and molten. His lips were parted gently, as though he was ready to say more, but was waiting for your reply. What could you say to him? Was he asking what you thought he was asking? 

What could possibly convey the hidden depths of your affection?

You wanted to reach out, to place your hand on his cheek, but the space between the both of you felt like a chasm. Slowly, ready to snatch your hand back at any time, you moved it from your lap and offered it to him, palm up, on the bench. You avoided his gaze, scarcely daring to breathe.

He reached out, fingers curled and uncertain, and softly clasped your hand. His skin was rough and warm, familiar and foreign at the same time. You let out a ragged breath, sounding strangled. How was this possible? Was it even real?

“I was not certain,” you muttered. “But Boromir —”

“Boromir?” Aragorn chuckled and you looked up. He grinned and shook his head. “I did not take him as a meddler.”

“He simply… encouraged me to be open about my feelings.” Feelings. The reality of the situation dawned on you and a smile crept onto your face. “I cannot believe this.”

“I am in greater disbelief than you are. I was struck from the moment I saw you.”

“And I you.”

He arched an eyebrow. “I find that hard to believe.”

“You are not the only one who knows how to conceal your feelings,” you said with a laugh, shifting closer towards him. 

His other hand came to rest on your cheek. “There shall be none of that now. For too long have I been apart from you.”

He dipped his head and captured your lips. His lips were soft and tender. He kissed you slow and languid, savouring and tasting. He smelled of cedar and musk, and his breath held the lingering sweetness of pipeweed. You tried to pull back but he followed you, his lips seeking yours again. His kisses grew passionate, impatient, as though trying to make up for the time they did not have you.

He paused for a moment, breathless, and muttered, “Join me tomorrow, in front of everyone. Walk with me after I am crowned.”

“You would have me with you then?”

“I would have you with me always, meleth nîn.” He pressed a kiss to your temple. “Will you have me?”

“Yes. Anywhere, anytime, my love. Forever.”

[orchideous-nox]

The Amazing Devil are underrated storytellers

Like I'm sure many people did, I discovered alt-folk band The Amazing Devil through Joey Batey as a fan of The Witcher. Someone on TikTok was talking about the song Fair and how the actor who plays Jaskier (or Dandelion, depending on preference of material) from The Witcher sang it.

Instantly, I knew I had to listen to this song and I sat with it on repeat for an hour, picking through references and laughing at how pure and simple the love conveyed in those words was. It's the kind of love you dream of, where your partner completes you and life without them seems impossible. A love that goes beyond you both, as if there was no choice but to fall for one another. It's not pretentious or impossible to understand. It's universal and I fell in love with it.

Months later, I found Battle Cries, a song of overlapping whimsies. It tells the tale of two lovers ending their relationship and trying to find pieces of calmness in the uproar of their breakup, comparing it to a war not just between each other but within themselves. There a metaphors deeply woven within the lyrics and each line is magic as Joey and Madeleine sing over each other, words occasionally syncing up, representing the way they struggle to feel in tune with each other at the end of their relationship.

Battle Cries lead me to Marbles, the story of a couple where one of them is suffering from memory loss, the trials and tribulations of watching the person you love forget who they are and who you are too. It is a beautifully told story that feels so genuine, making me wonder how close to home the inspiration was. This song is an absolute guarantee at tears while also making you laugh.

Ruin came to me next, as wells as Drinking Song for the Socially Anxious and The Horrors and The Wild, three songs with such incredibly different vibes that don't just need to be listened to but thoroughly devoured.

Finally, a song I can never praise enough, Inkpot Gods. This song brings together so many ideas and images I love. Again, it is heavy on its use of metaphors but contains one of my favourite references they have ever used. The song discusses the love you can hold for another person and the lengths you will go to so you can protect them. It talks of breaking generational expectations and being there for someone when they can't defend themselves.

The best part of Inkpot Gods, however, is the Lord of the Rings reference where Madeleine sings "you might not fear a man//but to a woman by the end you'll kneel and plead". This is popularly theorised to be about Eowyn in The Return of the King and the line "I am no man" she speaks as she ends her foe's life, a show of her strength not despite of her gender. Easily the best line of the trilogy to me, and hearing it in song form cements this, following it with "I'm more than what my mum told me", breaking this tradition what what a woman can or should be.

While Joey Batey was the draw to The Amazing Devil's music for me, Madeleine has kept me there, she has such a beautiful voice and her and Joey together have made some stunning music that I will always love. They tell these fantastic stories within a few minutes, creating characters worthy of epic tales and narratives so deep and complex it leaves you thinking for long after.

[shinshandholder]

i think way too often about nicky's conversation with neil about love ("exy can't hold you up, and it won't make you a stronger or better person. sooner or later you're going to have to let someone in".) and how it's relevant at so many points of the trilogy, how it ties to neil's fears and how it always leads him to andrew. there are so many instances of it… just to name a few:

when neil is telling andrew about his past (kind of), and andrew takes it like a champ: "neil didn't know how to feel about that. he should be relieved, because it meant andrew might be done asking him questions, but it went deeper than that. he wondered for a moment if andrew could handle the entire truth so calmly, but that was too dangerous and stupid to consider".

after neil accepts andrew's offer to protect him: "andrew didn't bulge beneath his weight. he was something solid to lean against, something violent and fierce and unmoving. neil couldn't remember what it felt like to have someone hold him up. it was terrifying and liberating all at once".

after the conversation with nicky: "neil wouldn't wish his mess on anyone else. except he'd already started sharing that burden, albeit unwillingly. he'd divided his secrets between kevin and andrew. kevin reacted the way neil expected everyone would to the truth: with a horrified demand that neil leave immediately. andrew, though, nodded in the face of it and told neil to stay. he stood his ground when neil asked him for murder and gave him a key to their house".

when he opens up about his past AND SHOWS HIM HIS SCARS. "with so many people watching, neil couldn't lift his shirt. he did the next best thing and dragged one of andrew's hands under the hem. he pressed andrew's palm to the ugly scarring across his abdomen."

when he picks up andrew from rehab: "they'd been apart for seven weeks but neil keenly remembered why he'd stayed. he remembered this unyielding, unquestioning weight that could hold him and all of his problems up without breaking a sweat. for the first time in months he could finally breathe again. it was such a relief it was frightening; neil hadn't meant to lean on andrew so much."

when his reaction to the conversation with wymack about being captain is to call andrew: "neil felt a half-second from losing his mind, but then andrew said his name and neil's thoughts ground to a startled halt. he was belatedly aware of his hand at his ear and his finger clenched tight around his phone. he didn't remember pulling it from his pocket or making the decisino to dial out."

JUST. "it's always been 'lie' and 'hide' and 'disappear'. i've never belonged anywhere or had the right to call anything my own. but coach gave me keys to the court, and you told me to stay. you gave me a key and called it home."

"letting someone in meant trusting them not to stab me in the back when terrible people came looking for me. i was too afraid to risk it, so it was easier to be alone and not think about it. but i trust you".

when they're making out and andrew lets him put his hands on his hair: "it wasn't much, but it was a desperate relief having something to hold onto. maybe that low rush in his gut was from being trusted enough to reach out at all".

the fact that he stopped running away and realized he wanted to be someone who stays and fights for his loved ones. "I didn't say anything then because I knew I'd look out for only me when the world went to hell. I don't want to be that person anymore. I want to go back for you."

[amymaleneart]

Got an inspiration hit for @missterious-figure Wine and Feathers AU.

So here's the next part what I'm going to call,

"The Mail Service Trilogy."

Enjoy!

Another package has arrived and waiting for you at your desk. This time, it is for Moon. He doesn’t often order things for himself besides the usual basics of skincare and feather-care maintenance. What does surprise you is that this box came from a high-end confectionery store.

You know as their handler that hapries, or birds in general, cannot eat processed sugar. It’s technically not toxic to them, but consuming sugar still isn’t good for them since it’s not naturally found in nature. The only “sweets” they are allowed to have are the ones found in fruit. Granted, harpies can have a little but the casino has to order the sugary treats and syrups from a manufacturer that specialize in exotic pets. Otherwise they couldn’t enjoy their virgin cocktails while entertaining the guests.

(You found yourself cringe at the thought of any of the harpies labeled as “pets”.)

So it is definitely a surprise for you to find that Moon was able to order some from an unapproved establishment. How did he pull this off? You might as well find out so he doesn’t do this again. You bring the package with you so you can have evidence that he did, in fact, made this order since the invoice has his name as the buyer. For being a peacock, he does like to weasel out of situations that he causes.

You went out into the big aviary straight to the tree that Moon likes to perch in when he is in between shows.

“Moon! Where are you?” You continue to look up into the tree, expecting to at least see his long tail feathers with the blue and yellow eyes sticking out of the branches like a silvery waterfall, cascading down the brilliant greenery.

“Moon?”

This is starting to make you nervous because when he doesn’t come when he’s called, he’s usually going to…

You are suddenly picked up from behind with an indignity “yelp!” on your part, and whisk away into the trees like an eagle that caught himself a tasty fish. And you’re the fish.

Once settled, you found yourself being snuggle tightly against the white and blue torso of the mischievous harpy, while sitting comfortably on his incredibly yet strong lap.

“R-really M-moon? How m-many times have I t-told you n-not to do that,” you say as you tried and failed to keep the fluster out of your voice. You hear his devilish cackle at your expense as his response, snuggling his head into the nook of your neck. “But you sound so beautiful when you scream. I just have to hear it again.”

You can feel your whole body heats up to a point that you bet if this was a cartoon, you would turn into a thermometer as you go completely red. You start to quiver, causing you to shake with the package still somehow in your hand, causing a simple rattling noise. Moon finally takes notice and creates a happy trill at seeing the package.

“Wonderful. I was starting to think this will never show up.” Being completely stunned from his affection, Moon easily takes the box from your hands and opens it to reveal his order.

He pulls out an elegant f/c box of chocolates, tied in a satin blue ribbon with a familiar silver peacock feather pattern sewn into the fabric, letting the original packaging fall from the tree. He slowly unties the ribbon in a delicate manner, just to retie it to your neck in a cute little bow like a show puppy. Moon takes a moment to admire his work with his brilliant rose red eyes, as he stares ever so lovingly into your cherry red face.

After he gets his fill, he removes the lid of a box to expose the most delicious assortment of sweets you have ever seen.

It is when he grabs one between his gloved fingers that you finally snap out of it to shout, “Moon wait! You cannot eat tha–” Your urgent words get muffled as he slips one of the expensive confectionaries into your open mouth.

“Hush, little starlight. It’s not for me.” he says with his rumbling baritone voice.

Your eyes open wide as the sweet explodes with flavor as it melts in your mouth. Then you realize that is one of your favorite flavors!

You swallow down the tasty treat in order to ask, “How did you–” another one gets placed into your mouth.

Moon chuckles as he says, “I’ll tell you, but only if you let me feed you each and every treat that’s in. this. box.”

Part One: Done in an ask - Part Two: Here - Part Three: Over There

[the-really-lonely-mountain]

Along for The Ride - Part 1

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Summary: Transported to Middle Earth, you must Join Thorin Oakenshield's Company as they travel to reclaim Erebor! OR: My take on the classic 'modern girl in Middle Earth' troupe. With this first installment, we are following the first movie of The Hobbit trilogy, and falling in love with Kili on the way! Slow burn with this one y'all, nothing spicy till the next work I'm afraid.

Tags: Kili / Reader, Reader-Insert, Slow Burn, Modern Character in Middle Earth, During The Hobbit, How Do I Tag, Canon-Typical Violence, Kíli Is a Little Shit (Tolkien), wrote this while I had covid, in like 4 days lol, implied soulmates, Dwarf Culture & Customs, Freeform, Holding Hands, Cuddling & Snuggling, Sleepy Cuddles, Protective Thorin Oakenshield Company Members, Dwalin & Thorin Oakenshield Friendship, Fluff and Humor, Domestic Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Where In Middle-Earth Is Gandalf?, Hair Braiding, Dwarf Courting, My First Tumblr Fic, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Fíli & Kíli & Thorin Live, Thorin Oakenshield Lives, Fíli Lives (Tolkien), Kíli Lives (Tolkien)

Word Count: 6,292

A/N: I was utterly appalled by the lack of Kili writers on here and Ao3. Y'all who write for Kili, I've been eating your crumbs like it's the shit (cause it is) for weeks, but one can't be sustained on crumbs alone so I've prepared a feast!! This is the first fic I've ever wanted to post, please be gentle. Comments, Likes, and Reblogs are loved and treasured!!

Tagging the amazing Kili writers I've been living off of for the past few weeks and who have inspired me so they might share in the feast as well lol go check out their stuff too: @mikathemonster, @cowboybeepboop, @littleenglishfangirl, @ethereal-inquisitor, @sweetpeakili

Photo credit: @immawriteyouthings

Divider credit: @cafekitsune

You were having one of those days that made you want to run away from everything. Instead, you walked on the golf course behind your house after hours; no phone, no umbrella, no bag this time, just you. You had what you could fit from your hands in your jean pockets as you walked the grassy field. Something twinkled and caught your eye on the far side of the fairway, there was a sparkle in the ferns. You walked over and began looking through the underbrush. Your hand grazed a smooth stick with a mangled end that encased a gem. You picked it up hoping for a better look but were transported to another world instead!

You appeared in the new world holding the staff. You were standing beside an older fellow with a pointy hat and long grey beard. You looked around and saw many other gruff, burly-looking men sitting in an encampment. They looked as confused as you. You did the only thing you could think of doing at that moment.

You turned around and took off running as fast as you could.

The wizard whose staff you were running away with asked the younger dwarves in his company to fetch you for him. They ran after you as quick as the wind. You dodged trees and hurdled bushes, making an all-around great effort. You were slowing down though. You stopped for a moment to catch your breath and plan. A twig snapped in the distance; quick footsteps closed in on you. You took off again. You needed a place to hide, a moment to think for God's sake. You were afforded no such luxuries. They were gaining, you were tiring. In your drained haste, you tripped on a bush which sent you stumbling and struggling to regain your footing given your momentum. You finally fell and scampered to take cover behind the roots of a great tree. Their footfalls grew slower and drew nearer. They were so close you could hear their words now.

“…She’s hiding, Fili,” one said much closer than you expected them to be.

You tried your best to steady your breathing. Your heartbeat was so loud you knew they could hear it.

“Stop scaring her Kili,” The other chastised. “You know she’s got to be scared half to death”. He walked past you, studying the ground. The other came up the other side of the tree doing the same.

You gripped the staff preparing yourself to be found. They turned in unison following the same tracks and looked up at you simultaneously. They were both panting but not as hard as you. Fili, the elder and more experienced of the two knelt where he stood a few yards from your curled trembling form.

“My name is Fili” He put his hand on his chest and motioned to the man next to him, “This is my brother Kili. We mean no harm to you.” He kept his distance and showed his empty hands. You stayed firmly pressed against the tree trunk, your chest heaving rapidly and your eyes as large as saucers. They could have tackled you, beaten you, or done any number of terrible violating things, but they kept their distance and spoke softly.

“What’s your name?” Kili asked, with a charming smile as he crouched beside his brother.

“Y/N,” you said in a shaky freaked-out tone.

“Y/N, that’s our friend wizard’s staff,” Fili said, “If anyone can figure out how you got here, he can.”

“But you gotta come back to camp with us,” Kili said reaching out his hand as a peace offering. So many horrible things could happen to you in the wild of this new world, but even more on top of that could if you didn’t go with them.

“How can I trust you?” You asked them. They looked at each other.

“How can we trust you?” Kili threw back at you with a suspicious look and recoiled his hand.

“Touche” you nodded returning his look.

“Seems we are at an impasse then,” Fili huffed at his brother, “You want to get home, and our wizard can do that. The only way that can happen is if you come with us back to our camp. We can only offer you our word and promise on our honor as dwarven princes that you will not be harmed by any in our company.”

You thought for a moment and nibbled at your lip, “You promise?” you looked up at Kili this time.

Kili looked you deep in the eyes, and very seriously said: “No harm will ever come to you, on my honor as a prince.”

You nodded at this, “Very well”, and tried to stand up but were stuck against the tree. The 2 men easily lifted you back to your feet. You followed them back to the camp.

You tried your best to hide behind Kili as you approached the wizard smoking a pipe. You peeked from around his shoulder at the other men in the camp. They were looking at you.

“Please sit, my dear,” The wizard said to you, motioning to the rest of the long log beside him “We have much to discuss.”

Your legs wouldn’t move you from behind the dwarf. You were still quite afraid.

“She seems to have taken a liking to you Kili,” the wizard said to him. The rest of the company let out a soft chuckle of agreement. You couldn’t see it from your angle, but Kili smiled and nodded.

“Sit down child, we aren’t going to hurt you,” One of the dwarves sitting across the fire said. You took a deep breath to gather your courage. One false move by any of the others would have you bolting again.

You moved from behind Kili and sat beside the wizard still clutching the staff.

“May I take that from you?” the wizard politely asked. You handed it to him. He explained how this type of thing had happened to a couple of his wizard friends before, but he didn’t know the remedy or spell to undo it or how to prevent it from happening again. You sat quietly listening and nodding. He explained to you and the rest of the company that he was leaving to travel to his friend and inquire about your predicament. In the meantime, he convinced the company and its leader, Thorin you came to know, to keep you in the company as an innocent bystander to help around the camp and whatnot till Gandalf (the wizard) could figure out what to do with you. Gandalf gave you a small sack of coins, instructing you to get a bag, a bedroll, clothes, and any other necessities you’ll need at the next town.

As the fire died down so did the company. They got out their bedrolls and sleeping gear like a synchronized unit and as quickly as they started, they were all asleep snoring softly. Kili had first watch and was sitting on the ground next to you leaning against the log you were on. You slid onto the ground next to him curled with your knees to your chest. He looked over at you. You looked over at him.

“I don’t know what to do now,” you said not hiding the waver in your voice very well, “I’m so scared.” You couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. You cried into your hands as quietly as possible, so you didn’t disturb and anger the others. If you had looked at Kili, you would have seen him in a slight panic and at a loss for what to do, he didn’t know how to console crying women. You sobbed into your hands knowing you just needed to let it all out then you’d be fine. Kili looked at the fire and put his hand on your back. Physical contact of any kind back home was next to nonexistent, it felt nice to know he was trying his best to comfort you. After a few minutes of uncontrollable sobbing and hiccups wracking through you, you began calming down. When you were able to breathe properly, you wiped your face even though tears kept falling. You sniffled and rested your chin on your knees letting the tears fall silently now.

“Do you feel better?” Kili guessed in a soft tone and rubbed his hand on your back.

You nodded at him, “Yes” You took a deep breath and wiped the tears from your eyes as best you could, “Thank you” You looked at him and smiled a little. He smiled and nodded too, still concerned but returned his hand to his lap. You sniffled and looked at the fire.

“Really though I don’t know what I’m doing,” you said. “I’ve never been camping before,” you paused to think. “I don’t know how to fight or use a sword or make a fire or hunt or-or—” You were working yourself up and starting to cry again. Kili cut you off before you could start sobbing hysterically again.

“WOAH! Woah!!” alarmed, he put his hand on your back again, “It’s ok. Calm down.” he said harshly, “Take a deep breath, that seemed to help last time,” He mumbled the last part under his breath. That made you smile despite yourself.

“You don’t know how to console someone, do you?” You took a deep breath and wiped your eyes. He shook his head and took his hand from you. “Seems we’re both out of our depth then,” you said making the mood a bit lighter.

“In my defense, I was raised in a pack of manly men,” He smiled fondly “It’s a wonder my mother got through to me at all.”

“So, you do have a mother,” you said, making him look at you quizzically “I assumed you were raised by wolves,” You shrugged. He laughed and you couldn’t help but smile.

“You’re not completely wrong about that,” He smiled, looking over at the men across the fire. There was a momentary silence. “We’ll teach you those things, how to fight, how to make a fire, all that,” He looked over at you, “I mean who knows how long Gandalf will be, and you’d have to be pretty stupid not to pick up a thing or two even from this bunch.” You smiled and nodded; this calmed your nerves a little. A moment of silence fell between you again.

“Is it ok if I stay up with you?” you innocently asked, “I’m not very tired.”

“Sure,” he said casually, “May I ask about your life back in your world?”

“OK,” You nodded.

“What do you do?” he asked, you gave him a weird look. “Like for a living, how do you make money, how do you spend your days?”

“I’m a student at university at the moment.” He looked at you confused this time. “I spend my days studying at a desk, it’s boring and dull” You quickly summed up.

“Ooohh,” He said, “No wonder you couldn’t run for shit,” He laughed.

You scoffed, “So rude,” You huffed, failing to hide your smile. He was glad you were cheering up a bit.

“If it’s so boring and dull, why don’t you do something else?” He asked, naive to your world and its ways.

“It’s…complicated” you sighed “I have to study to do what I want to do for work even though I don’t want to work or study or do any of that, but I have to make money somehow because I need money to do stuff and buy things because the world I live in is shitty that way and it’s so frustrating sometimes,” you gritted your teeth to make your point.

“Well, what do you want to do then?” he asked, trying to understand your strange world.

“Sit on the beach,” You said without hesitation “…Listen to the waves…sleep on a blanket in the sun,” you sighed wistfully. “Die happy and rich.”

“That does sound nice” He agreed “I’ve never seen a tropical ocean before, the seas near the Blue Mountains are all frozen over.”

“Surely there’s a beach somewhere in this world,” You refused to believe the universe sent you to a world without a beach.

“There is! I’ve heard stories of Southern Gondor, where the sun makes the sand hotter than forges, and the water falls over the horizon in every direction.”

“That sounds like the beaches from back home,” You felt a little bad for him. You’d been practically raised at the beach because it was the only free thing to do in your hometown.

“May I ask a question?” you asked this time.

“Of course,” He shifted to lean against the log and face you.

“What are you guys doing?” you gestured to the camp around you.

“We are on a quest!” He said proudly, “A quest to take back our ancestral home from the dread dragon Smaug,” he said in a sinister voice. He explained about Erebor and the dragon and Thorin to catch you up. You listened, nodded, and took it all in, asking questions and giggling at his jokes. He was a decent storyteller.

“And I’m just along for the ride I guess,” you said deflated about your role in all this.

“If it’s any consolation, you’re quite good company,” He indulged; Kili always got so lonely on watch.

“Yay!” you said over a yawn, “I’d hate to bore any of you,” you replied, genuinely fearing your stories may never measure up to theirs. You leaned over and laid on the soft grass, curled in a ball with your arm as a pillow. You tried not to shiver from the cool evening breeze. You heard some shuffling of fabric, and then a blanket fluttered on top of you. You looked at Kili who smiled and said: “I’m quite the furnace at night, I’ll be fine without it,” he reassured.

“Thank you,” you said over another yawn. You didn’t expect to fall asleep but the next thing you knew it was early morning and you were awoken by the clanging of pots and spoons. You sat up and looked around to get your bearings.

‘Still in the same strange world’ you thought not fully awake. Kili appeared, greeted you good morning, and handed you a bowl of white goo he called porridge. You thanked him and ate your breakfast in silence like the rest of the company. While the men packed up the camp you were tasked with washing the dishes in a nearby stream. You were struck by the beauty of the incredible woods around you even in the dim morning light. You returned to camp and put the dishes in their bag, which was taken by one of your new companions. You felt out of place without a task among everyone who knew what to do. Balin saw you standing in the middle of the camp looking lost. He asked Thorin what they were to do about their lack of an extra pony for you. They decided you could ride with Kili seeing as he was the lightest (next to Bilbo) and his pony could take the weight and because you seemed the most comfortable with him. The old dwarf with a white-grey beard curled up at the ends approached you with as much of a nonthreatening air as he could muster.

“Good morning, my dear!” He greeted you with a chipper smile. “My name is Balin”

“Good morning,” you replied. “I don't quite know what I’m to be doing,” you said sheepishly.

“That’s ok lass, it’ll come with time,” he reassured, “For now, you’ll ride with Kili so you can see if he needs help getting ready.”

“Ok,” You nodded and started walking in Kili’s direction. You stopped in front of his pony and petted its nose and down its neck. “I’ve been told that I’m to ride with you,” you said timidly looking at him adjust his saddle. Kili looked at you and nodded.

“I’ll be happy to have a lovely conversation again” He smiled and looked back at his saddle, making the final arrangements.

He turned to you and said, “I’ll give you a leg up,” And jabbed a thumb at his pony. You nodded and approached the animal. You put your hands on the ponies back and bent your leg waiting for him to help. He leaned forward so he could whisper in your ear: “Wrong leg”. You blushed quite profusely at that and switched legs. He heaved you with such strength he nearly threw you over the other side of the pony. You made yourself comfortable behind the saddle before he hooked his foot in the stirrup and carefully mounted so he didn’t knock you off.

“You ok?” he asked over his shoulder.

“Yep!” you smiled. He nodded. You were excited to see new lands even though you feared what they harbored.

“If you need to hold on to me when we get going you can,” he said, making you both blush despite yourselves.

A few moments later Thorin called out: “Company ready?” in a deep booming voice, “Aye!” They all replied in unison. “Company, move out!” He bellowed and urged his pony forward. The rest followed behind him one by one. When your animal lurched forward you grabbed Kili's waist for dear life. The company was silent till they got to the end of the forest. You had your cheek pressed against Kili’s shoulder and your chest against his back. The fur of his coat was very soft against your face as you turned your head to look over his other shoulder. You yawned but didn’t realize you did it right next to his ear and breathed down his neck. He determinedly kept his eyes on the pony ahead of him to keep the blush rising in his chest at bay.

“You can take a nap if you need to,” he said over his shoulder in a soft voice for only you to hear.

“That sounds like a good idea,” You yawned again. You buried your face in the soft spare fabric of the hood on his back and cuddled closer to him to rest your head on his shoulder. You closed your eyes and sleep swiftly took you. He knew this because he could feel your breathing slow on the back of his neck. He was happy you could sleep and couldn’t help his smile. You shifted now and then, turning your head one way then a while later turning it the other. Kili tried not to talk or move too much in fear of waking your delicate slumber. By midday, you felt very well rested. You took a deep breath and released your grasp on Kili to stretch your arms above your head, arching your back to wake yourself up. You quickly slipped your arms around him again, so you didn’t fall.

“Good morning!” He chirped, “Well afternoon really,” he corrected with a smile, “Sleep well?”

“Mhm,” You hummed against his shoulder “I haven’t slept that well in a long time,” you said thinking back on the restless weeks before your arrival in Middle Earth.

“Good,” He nodded. “Happy I could be of service.”

“Yes, you make quite the comfortable bed,” you replied.

An easy silence settled between you for a while. You contentedly watched the landscape pass by while he kept the pony on the path.

“What’s a good weapon for a beginner?” You asked knowing you needed to start wrapping your head around the fact that you could be stuck here forever and needed to protect yourself. He thought about that for a few moments.

“I’d have to say a bow,” He shrugged, “I don’t know honestly, lemme ask Fili,” he kicked up his pony to walk faster to be next to his brother. “What is the best weapon for a beginner?” He asked him. Fili glanced at you and thought for a moment.

“Hmm I think a sword would be easiest,” He replied, contradicting his brother.

“A sword?!” Kili said incredulously “No that’s one of the harder ones,” He swatted his hand as if to swipe the words from the air.

Fili scoffed “For you maybe,” he said barely keeping his teasing smile under control “But not to the rest of us, my weapon-challenged brother.” That made you giggle. Kili huffed and pulled his horse back, so he wasn’t beside his brother anymore.

“Are you that bad with a sword?” you asked, trying not to laugh too much.

“No!” he exclaimed, “I’m just better with a bow and arrows,” he pouted.

‘Awe he’s so cute when he pouts’ Your thought took you by surprise.

“Perhaps you can teach me, Archer,” Your voice was lower than you intended, making you both blush. Your breath ghosted over his ear making him shiver just a little. He turned his head to look at you over his shoulder, his face so close to yours. He looked at your lips then deep into your eyes holding eye contact.

“Maybe I will,” he said in a deep gruff whisper that made you gasp and goosebumps rush over your skin. He turned back and smiled; proud he could get a rise out of you. You huffed and distanced yourself from him by leaning back, needing the space to calm down.

As night drew closer, Thorin led the company to the edge of a forest and found a shallow cave, more like a cliff overhang to make camp for the night. He told Fili and Kili to take care of the ponies and Oin and Gloin to make the fire. After the meals had been handed out Thorin told you to take Fili and Kili a bowl. You walked through the forest and found them looking at a downed tree in panicked awe.

“Something took 4 of the ponies,” Fili said to you, hoping you’d have the answer to their predicament.

“Yes, and…” you nodded at them trying not to panic yourself “What are you going to do about it since it’s your problem?”

The brothers decided to see what took the ponies and if they could handle it themselves, no need to worry Thorin, right? You followed them as they tracked the pony-nappers. Kili hid behind a tree and peeked around, you hid behind him and peeked over his shoulder. 3 large trolls were something to worry about, and a sight that made that dreadful feeling drop from your chest into your stomach. Your grip on Kili’s coat tightened.

He turned to you and said in barely a whisper, “Go back to camp and tell Thorin”.

Fili was immediately against it, huffing and puffing from behind his tree. Kili shrugged and motioned with hands as if to say, ‘What else would you have us do?!’ Fili huffed again and snuck around the tree. He tried to cut the rope fence with his sword, but he took too long. The trolls caught him. They were deciding ways to eat him when Kili looked at you in alarm and told you to go back to camp. You ran as fast as you could.

“Ponies! Big grey troll things took the ponies!” You said out of breath pointing the way you just came “Fili…in…danger”. Thorin cursed in dwarfish and rallied the company. Balin told you to keep your distance, so you didn’t get caught in the fight.

The dwarves fought bravely but were captured. Bilbo bid for more time while you thought of a plan. You heard the trolls complain about daylight coming and that gave you an idea. You saw the trolls had made camp in the shade cast by a large boulder. You wedged a branch under the rock and used the leverage to try to roll it. It was very heavy, and you were not. It took everything in your power to push the branch to roll the boulder down the ditch edge it rested on. The trolls were washed in sunlight, turning them to stone and freeing the company. They cheered when you stepped over the branch and into the clearing. You helped them from their confines and smiled and blushed when they praised your good job.

Back at camp the company gathered their things and discussed what to do now. Fili suddenly hushed the company.

“Warg howls in the distance,” He whispered to Thorin “They are coming!”

“RUN!” Thorin yelled at the company. Following Thorin everyone started running. You all ran as fast as you could onto a hilly plane sprinkled with trees and boulders. You ran and ran till the Wargs finally caught up. They began to encircle you. The company fought the beasts, taking them down as still more came at them. You went to hide behind the rock formation but fell into it instead. You climbed out as the Wargs were closing in.

“Down here!” you called “There’s a passage this way!” you slid down to make room for the others. Thorin was the last one, as he slid down a horn was blown near the entrance to the passage.

“I can’t see where it leads, do we follow?” One of the dwarves asked.

“Yes! We follow!” Thorin barged through the dwarves and led the company through the narrow pass. You all walked for a few minutes, but then Thorin rounded a corner and slowed as he realized where he’d unwittingly led the company. The rest kept walking around him, but Bilbo stopped and said in admiration: “Rivendell”. You stopped as well to take in the view before you. It was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. A small town on the side of a mountain with water flowing from beneath some of the glittering structures.

As Thorin led the company over a bridge, you grabbed Kili’s arm to steady yourself as you looked around and took in the ornate statues and architecture of the front steps of a large building. A man much taller than you or the dwarves approached the group.

“We would like to speak to Lord Elrond,” Thorin said through gritted teeth. He was swallowing his pride for the betterment of the quest, that much was clear through his clenched fists and tense shoulders.

“Lord Elrond isn’t here,” The elf said regretfully.

“Then where is he?” Thorin’s patience was growing thin. A horn was sounded on the other side of the bridge you’d just crossed. Everyone turned to see a group of horses galloping towards them. The dwarves began shouting in dwarfish and closing ranks with their weapons ready for battle. You were pushed into the very center of the circle as tall horses and riders circled you. They stopped suddenly and the one on a black horse dismounted.

“My Lord Elrond,” The elf who first approached you said with a bow.

“Lindir” Elrond bowed his head at him then turned to the leader of your group, “Welcome Thorin son of Thrain,” He looked over the dwarf “You have your grandfather's bearings.”

“I’m afraid I know you only from the stories my grandfather told me,” Thorin was doing his best to be polite. (You were later informed that the stories were mostly about him being a ninny.)

“I’d like to offer you and your company a taste of our elfish hospitality,” Elrond said with a warm smile.

“Does that mean we’ll eat?!” Bombur called from the back. The company chuckled at him.

“Yes Bombur, that means we’ll eat” Dori replied. The company cheered at the prospect of a full belly and a warm hearth.

Not long after, you were sat next to Bilbo and Kili at a large table. The salad appetizers were very good despite the dwarves not liking green food very much. You giggled at their jokes about how bad the music was or how they wanted chips and meat. Thorin was sat at another table across from Elrond discussing something you couldn’t hear, but you could tell it pained Thorin to be in the other man's presence.

You turned to Kili beside you. “Thorin looks constipated,” you said in a low voice barely containing your laughter “He can’t even pretend to be enjoying this”. Kili looked over at his uncle and laughed with you.

When the meals were served there was boisterous laughter and general dwarfish shenanigans, the usual at any merry dwarfish gathering. Bilbo looked like he was having PTSD from when they were doing the same at his house at the beginning of the quest. At the end of the meal, Thorin and Balin disappeared with Elrond to discuss a map. You asked Kili if he would escort you to the markets with as much innocent girlish need as you could muster to solidify your security. He agreed and walked with you through the corridors and to the market. He helped you get a fair price on a bag, a blanket, and a bedroll. The next thing you needed was clothes to blend in.

“What do the women around here wear exactly?” You asked him. He shrugged.

“It depends, I guess” He had his hands shoved in his pockets as he followed you around the clothing stalls like a puppy.

“Gee, that’s a big help.” You teased.

After some more wandering you found a stall selling clothes that looked your size. You purchased a dark blue form-fitting tunic that stopped above your knees and had slits on the sides that went up to your hips. It paired very nicely with the brown pants and brown coat with dark blue highlights you bought as well. Kili helped barter with the merchants since you didn’t know the fair price of things here. In another section of the market, you bought spools of black, blue, and pink thread. You put your belongings in your new bag.

“Are we done?” Kili asked, sounding slightly annoyed. He was ready to go back to the others and be away from so many elves. You sighed and rolled your eyes playfully and nodded. He led you through the busy crowded markets by holding your hand. You were thankful he was in front of you so he couldn’t see your blush. You made it back to the group, who had set up camp in a courtyard garden at the end of a hallway. Just as you arrived two female and two male elves came down the hallway.

One of the males stepped forward, “The bathhouse is ready for you now” he said to the group.

“Bath?! We don’t need no stinkin’ bath!” Exclaimed a dwarf from behind the fire. The rest heartily agreed, not ready to drop their pants on elvish soil it seemed.

“I’d like a bath” you timidly said, not wanting to make a fuss but very much wanting to be clean.

“Very good mistress dwarf, if you’ll follow us,” one of the female elves said. You were tense as you followed the four elves down the corridor, not sure what you were doing.

“You best go with her lad,” Dori said to Kili, “You never know what an elf might try to pull.” He glared at the back of the elves as they walked away. Kili nodded and ran after you.

“Y/N!” He called making you and the elves stop.

“Oh, change your mind, Kili?” You asked with an innocent smile, happy to have his company.

“Yeah, I guess so.” He smiled too.

You were led to a large door that opened into a covered hot spring that flowed over the balcony to create an assumably gorgeous waterfall. Columns lined the outer edge of the room which was split down the middle by a cloth partition. The male elves walked to one side of the divider with Kili in tow, while the females walked to the other. The elves asked that you wash under the heated shower of water off to the side before entering the hot springs. They left you to your own devices.

“I’ve never seen anything like this have you?” You asked Kili across the large room.

“No” He smiled at the wonder in your voice from seeing new things and making discoveries. He thought it was very cute.

You placed your bag and new clothes on the vanity in the corner. You undressed and stepped under the warm shower. You used the bar of soap you found to wash your hair and body. It was the best-smelling soap you’d ever had the pleasure of experiencing.

“Hey, Kee?” You hollered.

“Yeah?” He yelled back.

“Do you plan on keeping your soap?”

“No…Why?”

“I’ll take it then. I’ll need extra anyway,” And you were so happy you did. That soap made your hair silky smooth and stronger than ever. You rinsed the suds away then stepped into the hot springs.

It felt luxurious. You couldn’t help but moan a little as the heat pulled every knot and tense muscle from you. Relaxed, you floated in the steamy water.

“You still there Kili?” you asked suddenly nervous he’d left you.

“Yeah, I’m here” He replied, “We shouldn’t take too much longer though, Thorin could be back any minute and who knows what kind of a mood he’ll be in.”

That made you enjoy the bath a little faster. Not long after you began drying off and getting dressed. You took the hairbrush and beads and other miscellaneous hair trinkets that were on the vanity. You looked in the mirror at your new outfit. It fit as you thought, though a little snugger in some places than others, hugging your curves to allow for movement yet still baggy for breathability and insulation. Overall, a nice ensemble.

“Ready Y/N?” Kili asked from across the partition.

“Yeah, you can come over, I’m just packing my things.” You replied, folding your old clothes, and putting them in your bag with the rest of your things.

“Here’s the soap” He handed it to you.

“Thanks!” You smiled at him; you simply wrote his flushed cheeks off to the hot water. When you stood, he was able to get a much better look at you in your new clothes.

“A perfect fit I see” He smiled, looking you up and down. He couldn’t help but imagine what you’d look like wearing nothing but his tunic. A line of thought he blushed at and quickly willed away.

“Does it look alright? I don’t know how it’s supposed to fit” You fussed with the hems and the folds trying to make them lay better. He grabbed your hand to make you stop fidgeting.

“You look great,” he said with a genuine smile. You smiled and nodded your appreciation.

You walked back to camp, making moneyless bets on what mood Thorin would be in when he returned.

As you approached Fili saw you in your new outfit and said, “Well look at this…” Making the rest of the company look at you too, “Our wee lass looks like a bona fide middle earther now!” They cheered at your near-complete indoctrination.

“Now she just needs to learn how to fight like one.” Bofur quipped from beside the fire.

“Then I wouldn’t need any of you to protect me!” You put the back of your hand to your forehead feigning a damsel in distress, making the company laugh. You sat on the ground beside the long chair Kili was now examining his weapons in and leaned against it. You held out a stone fish figurine to him.

“As a thank you for helping me” you cleared your throat “…And for being my friend.” You couldn’t meet his eyes, but you knew he was smiling a little around his reed pipe. He took it from your open hands. You know it wasn’t much but it’s all you could offer.

“Maybe one day you can return it to the ocean,” you said, referring to your previous conversation.

“Maybe I will,” he smiled down at you with genuine fondness.

“Bombur!” Bofur called before throwing a sausage to his cousin. The table, which took skilled elfin craftsman months, even years to craft and carve out of solid wood, collapsed under the massive weight of Bombur. Everyone erupted in laughter, it was nice to be part of the group and share in the merriment.

~~

Thorin stopped Balin on their way back to the camp, “We should leave her here,” He said, “She is a liability.”

Balin had a terrible sinking feeling in his round tummy when he thought of splitting you up.

“So what if she is, Thorin?” Balin said near pleading. “Have you ever seen your nephew that happy or open with a girl that quick before? I’ve never seen the lad so engaged in a conversation that didn’t have to do with weapons before last night. So what if she dies on our quest, at least we gave them a chance to happen, and if fate finds their pairing favorable it will all work out!” Balin was desperate to keep you and the young prince together if only to keep the sinking feeling at bay.

Thorin huffed, “Very well, but her blood is not on my hands,” He walked away and into the camp.

~~

Thorin and Balin returned, and the tone became slightly more serious—slightly. The company settled and laid their bedrolls in the grassy parts of the garden. You laid yours out as well and prepped for sleep by removing your shoes and coat. The night was warm enough that your blanket would suffice. You looked up at the stars wondering if any of the constellations were the same as back home. You cuddled your coat to your chest relishing the feel of the soft fabric. The low conversation between Fili and Kili, while they sat on watch across the fire, lulled you to sleep.

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

[merrivia]

Okay, I have read the Captive Prince trilogy and have so many thoughts...

(And if you like this, I have another essay on Auguste and Laurent here) 

I think the question of why Damen first fell for Jokaste and then Laurent, is so interesting to me. Yes, there’s the blond hair/blue eyes (and the trope of opposites attract + rarity of that colouring), but I think crucially, Damen is smarter than he looks or seems, and I think, desires a partner who can match him. Not in complete equality but in a myriad of ways that achieve a sense of balance...

With Damen’s physique and fighting prowess and his cheerfully open sexual desires (ok fine, horniness), plus his innate, black and white sense of honour and fairness, you can see how people would assume that he is...well, not that bright. He’s so rooted in his physicality himself, so drawn to simplicity too, it can be difficult to see. He’s clearly not stupid, but it is human to categorise, and just like Auguste was probably seen as brawn and Laurent as brains, so Damen probably gets shoved into that first category. But one of the first things we hear about Damen from another person is that he is smart- he has a ‘mouth on him’ as one of the handlers warns. He isn��t brutally cutting and filthy in the way Laurent is; he’s just smarter and quicker than you’d expect. That first line to Laurent- ““I speak your language better than you speak mine, sweetheart.””- amply displays how he is quick; when he ironically calls Laurent’s mood “delightful”, the next day...this is not a clumsy, dumb jock. 

Even the way Damen speaks languages and understands warfare and military strategies, shows his clear intelligence- he isn’t good with the twisty machinations of Vere because it’s completely outside of what he knows. He wasn’t educated that way. Clever Laurent, as a young teenager, wasn’t good at it. No-one, we assume, is born as a ready-made Machiavellian (though arguably, Laurent’s incredibly sharp mind that is good at puzzles etc., makes him innately good at it once he learns). You also have no need for plotting and planning and intrigue, when you get what you want, by virtue of who you are. Not only is Damen the heir, and pretty much the exemplary model of Akielon masculinity, but that gives him this shield of golden self-confidence- he walks into the room, and gains love and respect immediately; failing that, everyone at least has their head on the ground. He has been given such an outpouring of love from everyone around him, he sees the world far more simply because he has never had to see it any other way. As Nikandros says, no-one has ever refused him anything. Why would he recognise the long game of political manipulation- a game to get you what you want, when you can’t have it directly? 

Over the months of Damen’s time with Laurent, he not only starts to pick up far more quickly on Laurent’s impenetrable personality but also gets a much firmer grip on Veretian (read: the Regent’s ) political intrigue- when he does, it’s often describe in terms of a radical shift in mindset, a complete tilting of his worldview. The reason why he didn’t get it before was a lack of experience of a world so cynical and dark; why he does get it after, because he is intelligent enough to start to grasp it. This might be a good time to mention also how Laurent calls Damen arrogant in Prince’s Gambit (“You, with your barbaric attitudes, your brutish, domineering arrogance, are always right”). This is actually, finally, a bit of angry honesty from Laurent. Damen has thought of Laurent as unbearably arrogant from the start of the trilogy; here, it seems, Laurent actually thinks the same thing of him. Yes partly that arrogance could be seen as body language and the way Damen holds himself, the look in his eyes, but also it’s how he speaks. He challenges Laurent with his mind.

And Laurent challenges him back. After all, when does Damen ever feel challenged? What tests the full repertoire of his skills? No-one can beat him in the field; he’s the best and he knows it. Yet, he does derive real pleasure from Laurent’s capabiilities- as a swordsman and his horsemanship. It’s why it was important that Laurent finish the okton first- and how happy that made Damen. The rooftop chase, too- Laurent can keep up, and he’s exhilarated by it. The true challenge though, lies in Laurent’s verbal repartee and his mind. Damen actually does like to use his brain, to engage in witty banter- it’s fun. The rooftop is fun. Laurent and Damen laugh together a number of times, and Damen is having a blast. Laurent is difficult, and to Damen, where everything hitherto has been easily won, this challenge is finally giving his brain and his body what they wanted. There is a whole other post I could make on why Laurent in turn is attracted to Damen, but I’ll just put here that I think, the way he pivots Laurent towards healthy relationship dynamics, where being happy and laughing freely together is how you can be with someone, is part of it.

I think this is also why, tragically, Jokaste, despite her self-sacrifices to save Damen, was never The One for him. As beautiful and cold and clever as she is, there’s nothing mischievous or light-hearted about her- you can’t see her and Damen having a laugh together. He likes how smart she is, and her ruthlessness because that is how she radiates power and that feels like equality to Damen (something he can never get from a romantic partner, as he outranks everyone), but she isn’t fun. Not only that but, ruthless-as-a-result-of-trauma-and-for-survival, is very different from ruthless-because-I-am-purely-ambitious; Laurent as the former, does get to retain a sense of honour and compassion that Jokaste seems to lack. Mostly though, Laurent gets to be Damen’s near-equal; where they don’t quite match, they complement. Where Laurent needs incisive, perceptive honesty, he gets it through Damen’s mind not his muscles. The moment that Laurent actually tips Damen into the first throes of love is when he gets out Volo’s cap- the sheer cleverness of it, makes him feel the “first dizzy edge of a new emotion”. In the end it is a mutual intelligence that binds them together as much as physical desire. 

[acourtofthought]

Full credit goes to @crazy-ache because this is something she noticed and I think is absolutely brilliant.

She was looking through her copy of ACOTAR and noticed something interesting about the last page of each book that was a continuation of the series:

ACOTAR -

This last paragraph of book 1 tells us exactly where book 2 was going to pick up, with Feyre struggling with her trauma from UTM.

ACOMAF -

The end of book 2 comes right out and tells us where book 3 takes off.

Book 3 doesn't have anything hinted at on the very last page as it ended the trilogy and we're meant to leave Feysand on a high note. But in the pages very close to the end:

SJM once again sets up for what is to come. That they would need to help Nesta. That Elain wants to ensure that the "world" has more gardens. That there is life in her eyes, a promise of the future. That the queens are still out there and they need peace across their lands.

So what does the final page of SF tell us?

There is a lot in SF that sets up for future arcs for the characters. We know Mor is still in Vallahan, that there's more to her story with Eris and that he's been dealing with abuse from his father, that Az is struggling with not having a mate, that Lucien still longs for Elain and Tamlin has fallen into an even worse state with Feyre's pregnancy, that the Valkyries will continue training until they were "well and truly Valkyrie" (which I imagine will take time considering Illyrian warriors spend years and years battle training <- my thought, not necessarily @crazy-ache 's opinion).

But she closes out the very last page of SF with Elain's carving as a permanent marker of the beauty and good their father brought into the world. She closes out the book with the sisters.

When the other books ended their last page pointing us in the direction of where the next book would pick up, why would Silver Flames be any different?

[th3b4dk1dzz]

Is anyone else curious about how much story is left to tell in JD story modes. Because if JD25 is the end of what I'm dubbing as 'The Night Swan Saga' then I worry that it will have too much story crammed into a 7 song playlist to provide a solid conclusion.

That probably doesn't make much sense, so let me elaborate.

Based on where DWTS left off, we can assume the next story mode will pick up where the last one left with Jack rescuing the other protagonists from Night Swan's control, but the potential issues come from how that works pacing wise.

Now, I believe the best way to go about it is to have this happen one by one in their own solo maps to pace the story out.

The issue here comes in the climax of the playlist (the Majesty and Swan Lake equivalent routine). If this is the last story mode with these characters, then this routine would be the finale for the entire trilogy, and trying to tie everything up neatly across 1 to 2 songs, it might be hard to stick the landing.

Yes, they could defeat Night Swan and have a fun dance party, but I feel like that's not enough of a conclusion if we never see these characters again.

For example, we know from one of his Avatar quotes and from lyrical implementation in Canned Heat that Wanderlust doesn't want to be The Chosen One.

Would there be enough opportunity to wrap up this story thread along with the mystery of who Jack's dad is, Mihaly's arc about their relationship with perfection and Sara, and her relationship between both worlds all into one satisfying ending without overcrowding the individual dance routines and making them unplayable outside of the Story Mode playlist (like how Can't Stop The Feeling has a super long cut scene you need to get thrown before you can start dancing)

You'll notice there's one main character I haven't mentioned yet, that's because I haven't been able to nail down what her story is specifically. Brezziana.

Now, don't get me wrong, I love Brezziana and how Elena portrays her. But it feels like her story arc hasn't been brought to the forefront at some point. I believe it's something to do with her need to put others before herself, but that would make her the only main character to not have a direct connection to Night Swan

Jack is related and was raised by her.

Mihaly used to idolise her

Wanderlust is the son of the person who she fell in love with and brought her to the danceverses in the first place.

Sara didn't even need to be connected as a player insert character people could project onto but she's linked to Night Swan by being from Earth.

So we could probably assume Brezziana also has a connection. One that will need time to be expanded on and not just tacked on at the end if there is one.

Another issue is making the final battle feel complete. JD24 ended on a cliffhanger, but JD23's Majesty and If You Wanna Party felt like a complete story at the time. We now know there was more to it than that, but that's the problem. If the story wraps here, will it feel like the end? Or will we think it's like JD23, and there's more to it than that?

So, does any of this make any sense, or am I just rambling?

[novelconcepts]

Another year, another absurd amount of books read (296, because if I wasn't reading or writing this year, my brain was on fire). I was asked again for my top books of the year, so here we go: 2023's top 10, in no particular order.

This was the first book I read of the year--literally, vacated the hangout with my wife and sibling-in-laws to sit on their couch upstairs and eat through it. Do you love The Fall of the House of Usher, but wish for a nonbinary protagonist and a lot more mushrooms? This is the book for you! (T. Kingfisher is fucking rad, I made a concerted effort to only list ONE of her books on here, but honorable mention goes to The Twisted Ones for fucking me upppp.)

A gay, post-apocolyptic Pinocchio retelling involving copious robots, found family elements, and a cool-ass treehouse. Klune always hits for me with his unrepentant queer family dynamics and sense of humor. Honorable mention to the first two in the Green Creek series (although that's got a lot more...adult elements in among the werewolves, you've been warned).

I thiiiink I found this through The Homo Schedule podcast (PSA: if you missed out on Jasmin Savoy Brown and Liv Hewson doing a podcast together, now you know better), and it wrecked my shit. Tons of trigger warnings, as this is a memoir about abuse within a queer relationship, but it's so beautifully written. I personally suggest listening to the audiobook first, then standing anxiously behind someone at a book warehouse sale, hoping they'll set down the only paperback copy so you can swipe it.

A fantastical-historical reimagining in which the KKK is filled with literal monsters, and Black women are resistance fighters armed to take them out. Visceral and intense, and truly an excellent horror story.

Just. Such a soft time travel story about a daughter and her father and cherishing the time you get with loved ones. I was thoroughly unprepared for how lovely I found this one. It's very kind.

Spooky house, take-no-shit redhead, protective sibling elements, bisexual recluse with a sword who really just needs a nap. I haven't found a Harrow book yet I haven't slapped five stars on. She's so good at character and atmosphere, and I'm always surprised at how fast her stories race by.

The whole Daevabad trilogy (of which this is the first book) is just magical. A girl from the mortal world finds herself embroiled with the centuries-long prejudices and wars of djinn in a fantastical city. It's one of the rare stories of its kind that does have a love triangle, but doesn't feel like a love triangle; it's far less interested in the insufferable "who gets picked" than it is in the actual horrors these people are both perpetrating and coping with. It's an intoxicating ride.

Fuck You, TERFS: the book. Given that fact, there's obviously quite a lot of transphobia to deal with, but it's very clear that those people are wrong, and it's a super-engaging (and super-oh-god-what-comes-next) witchy time populated with queer, protective, interesting characters I'm excited to see again in the follow-up.

Have you ever wanted a haunted house story with visceral imagery and a rather lovely twist? Gailey has you covered. As much as I enjoyed The Echo Wife, I think I actually loved this one more, and it makes me so excited to see what else they've got up their sleeve.

One of my final reads for the year, when I was just churning through hardcovers at the speed of sound. I love this book. I recognize it won't be for everyone, but it takes so much of what I love about IT (one of my all-time favorite books, despite its flaws) and twists it through the lens of an author who escaped the Mormon church. It's horrific, it's fantastically abstract in places, it explores childhood and memory, imagination and abuse, and almost every character is queer. It's a great "I simply cannot sleep until I've finished" read.

[age-of-greta]

The Sun

The Sun presents a feeling of optimism and fulfillment. It represents the dawn which follows the darkest of nights.

Author’s note: hi!! Welcome back to The Sun! Sorry it’s been a while, life is busy and I try to write when I can. I hope you enjoy this ~spicy~ chapter

Pairing: Josh x reader & Jake x reader

Warnings: cursing, alcohol consumption, smutttttttt, minors DNI

Word count: 8.3k

PART 3:

“I’m actually so depressed that you’re leaving me for a week.” You groaned, as you plopped down on his bed.

“I know. I’m not sure how you’re going to survive without me.” Josh said, throwing a pair of socks into his bag.

You huffed and folded your arms. Josh was about to leave you for a whole entire week. Well, really just five days, but close enough. He was going to meet with a vocal coach to prepare him for the sound of their new album. You were really bummed about it. You and Josh had spent virtually everyday together for weeks. He was your best friend and the thought of him leaving to go to LA made you feel sick. You wondered if he would be going to lavish parties with other people in the industry. Would he meet other people? Other girls? That’s completely normal worries to have about your best friend, right?

“What time is your flight tomorrow again?” You ask, picking at the ends of your hair.

“8:45 am.”

“And we’re still getting breakfast before I take you to the airport?”

Josh chuckles. “I hope so.”

“Okay.” You respond.

Josh closes his bag and sits down next to you. “I wish I didn’t have to go either. But it’s only a few days and I’ll call you as much as I can.”

You smile at him. “I know. I’m being such a baby about this.”

He smiles back and places his hand on your knee. “I think it’s sweet.”

Your eyes meet his and you feel a strange feeling brewing.

“Hey Josh, do you need this?”

You remove your eyes and see Jake standing in the doorway holding a neck pillow. He makes a face when sees you and Josh.

“Oh, yeah. Thanks.” Josh responds, getting up and grabbing the pillow from Jake.

“Didn’t know you were here Sug.” Jake says, crossing his arms.

You nod. “I’m taking Josh to the airport in the morning.”

Jake bites his lip. “Hm, okay.”

He glances you over once more before heading back down the hallway.

“Alright, I think I’m finally packed.” Josh throws all of his bags by the door and turns back to you. “Wanna order Chinese?”

“Oh yes please. I’m starving.” You say dramatically.

“Okay. You mind asking everyone else if they want anything? I’m going to throw all of this in the car and make a phone call real quick.”

You salute him. “Yes sir. Can do.”

Josh drags his bags down the stairs while you wonder around the halls looking for the other three.

“Danny?” You knock on his door. No response. “Sam?” You yell down the hallway. Nothing. You huff heading downstairs, but it’s also a ghost town. Finally, you open the back door and see Jake sitting by the fire pit reading. You glance around, still not seeing anyone else before deciding to head over and approach him. “Um, hey have you seen Sam or Danny?”

Jake glances up at you and slides his sunglasses off his nose. “They’re gone.”

“Oh.” You state. “Josh and I are ordering Chinese food and we wanted to see if anyone else wanted anything.”

He closes his book and turns to face you. “You can sit, you know.”

You glance down at the chair next to Jake and decide to take a seat. “What are you reading?”

Jake grins at you. “The Hobbit.”

You let out a laugh. “Again?!”

He nods his head. “Yeah. It’s one of the greatest novels of all time.”

“You and your Tolkien.” You huff. “It is one of the best books I’ve ever read though.”

Jake looks at you incredulously. “You read it?”

You nod. “And The Lord of the Rings trilogy.”

“When?”

You shrug. “Not super long ago.”

You didn’t want to tell him you had read all of those novels to try and feel closer to him. But once you started reading them, you had actually enjoyed them quite a bit.

“You’re full of surprises Sugar. Always keeping me on my toes.” Jake says, still smiling largely at you.

Josh walks outside and sits next to you. “So what’s the verdict?”

You clear your throat. “Sam and Danny aren’t here.”

Josh raises his eyebrows. “Oh lovely. Jake, what do you want?”

Jake stretches out a little. His shirt rises ever so slightly and reveals a small sliver of his stomach. You try not to look but fail. “I’m good.”

Josh makes a face at him. “You love Chinese food.”

Jake shrugs. “I’ll be out later.”

“Mhm.” Josh nods. “Holly or Katie?”

Jake shoots his twin a foul look.

Josh throws his hands up then faces you. “Okay. Wanna go get this order started.”

“Yep.” You say coolly, getting up to follow Josh.

As you walk away you glance back at Jake. He’s looking at you, like he wants to say something. But he doesn’t say anything, so neither do you.

**

“This is so freaking good.” You say, plopping chopsticks full of noodles into your mouth.

Josh smiles at you while chewing. “I told you. I have the best recommendations.”

You were both sprawled out on his bed watching an old western film that you had never seen before, but Josh definitely had.

“Josh?” You say, timidly turning towards him.

He glances over to you. “Hm?”

You purse your lips in contemplation before speaking. “I really have enjoyed spending so much time with you. You’re my best friend.”

He bites back what appears to be the beginning of a grimace before smiling back softly at you. “I have too. I love you, you know.”

You grin at him. “I know.”

He bites his lip. “Do you?”

You stare at him and give him a soft smile. Unsure as to where he might be going with this. Josh lets out a bated breath and reaches close to your face, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. For some reason your heart is pounding. It’s getting louder, but it’s not your heart. You jolt when you realize someone is beating on Josh’s door.

“Oh what the fuck.” He mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose.

He groans and opens the door to see Sam standing there. “What?” Josh bites.

Sam furrows his brows at Josh and then glances over to you. “Sorry to disturb you… I just wanted to come by and wish you well on your travels before I went out tonight. If I’m successful, I won’t be home this evening.”

Sam gives Josh a wink and Josh clears his throat. “Yes, well thank you Sam. Good luck to you as well.”

He grins at his brother and shifts his eyes to you. “Will we be seeing you at all this week?”

You shrug. “I’m not sure. I’ve got a busy work week ahead and I really need to hang some shelves in my bathroom.”

“I told you I’ll do that for you when I get back. You're not the greatest at making things level.” Josh pokes.

Sam fake gasps and nudges his brother. “What a gentleman. If you get bored after work or are looking for trouble, you know where to find us.” Sam says with a wink.

You huff a laugh. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Well, I don't want to hold you guys up any longer. Good luck Josh. Love you guys!” Then Sam is waltzing away to get into God knows what.

Josh closes his door and lets out a chuckle. “He’s going to be the death of me one day.”

You shake your head. “He loves you.”

He smiles at you. “He’s a little shit.”

“Can’t argue with you there.” You say, smiling back at him.

Josh rejoins you on the bed, picking up his container of rice and scooting ever so closer to you than he was before.

After you both had finished eating you had cleaned up and longued about before getting ready for bed. You grabbed your micellar water and doused it on a cotton pad to remove your mascara. You smiled when you glanced at the place it had lived in Josh’s bathroom. In fact, you had a whole shelf full of your small toiletries that you needed when you stayed over. After completing a quick version of your nightly routine you slid in bed next to Josh, adjusting your pillow just how you liked it.

“I need to get you softer pillows for when you stay over huh?” Josh laughs.

“I don’t know how you sleep on these flat things.” You say, fluffing up the pillow.

“Believe it or not, sleeping on flatter pillows is better for singers. It helps even out the breath in your sleep, leaving better airflow for your vocal chords.”

You make a slightly surprised face at him. “Wait, really?”

He turns and smirks at you. “I have no idea. I just made all of that up. Flat pillows are better though.”

You playfully smacked his chest, leaving your hand there. “Josh! I totally bought that. I think I would believe anything you said to me. That’s a dangerous quality to have. You should start a cult.”

He scooted closer to you. “Yeah? Would you be a member?”

You grinned at him. “Oh, I’d be your biggest fan. Give me that Kool-Aid, no questions asked.”

He snickered at that. “Good to know. Loyalty is of utmost importance when embarking on such a journey.”

You absentmindedly fidgeted with his necklaces. “Loyalty is everything. But I would need to know what my leader thinks the meaning of life is?”

He puts his arm out while you nuzzle yourself into it. This was somewhat of a new position. But you two were best friends, so testing the waters was platonic of course. This is what you told yourself as you took in his scent in an anything but innocent way. “The meaning of life?”

Josh pondered for a minute, lightly tracing circles on your arm. “To be happy and to be with people you love. Where there is love, we must live on. Where there is not love, we must provide it.”

You fluttered your eyes closed, feeling sleep sinking in. “I like that. You’re very poetic.”

He turns his head towards you and places a small kiss on your forehead. “Goodnight sleepy girl.”

**

You groggily woke up the next morning at an ungodly hour. Josh still had his arm lightly across you. You gently lifted it up, smiling at his soft snores and scooted out underneath him. You quietly crept to the bathroom doing a small routine before slinking down the stairs. You wanted to make Josh some coffee and surprise him with cooked breakfast before he headed off this morning. You tried to remain quiet through the house, not wanting to disturb anyone. Then you remembered you were probably the only two here. That wasn’t the case when you turned the corner and saw Jake sitting at the kitchen island. He was in a pair of very worn navy sweatpants with a steaming cup of coffee sitting next to the same book from earlier. He had made significant progress through the pages since you last saw him. It was early. Did he just make it back from whatever he did last night? You tried not to make any sound, but your heart sunk when you realized the sweatpants he was wearing were a gift from you.

“Morning.” You said lightly as you entered the kitchen.

Jake glanced up at you, almost surprised to see you. “Good morning.”

You began to clink around with the mugs, trying to act entirely normal.

“Sleep well?” Jake asked from behind you.

You nod your head, placing two stone mugs on the counter. “I did. How was your… night?”

Jake shrugged. “Got a lot of work done in the studio. Then came back and crashed.”

The studio. He was there. Not at someone else’s house. That made you feel relieved and it ate you alive simultaneously that you even cared.

“I don’t remember you being an early riser.” You poked, pressing buttons on the fancy coffee machine.

He half smiled at you. “I’m full of surprises too Sug.”

You met his eyes and couldn’t help but grin back at him. “I’ve changed a bit.” He offers, in a quieter tone, his expression too serious to read.

You swallow hard, trying to figure out what to say. Trying to figure out just what he meant.

Your thoughts are plundered by the soft padding of Josh making his way into the kitchen. “Morning.” He says through a long stretch and yawn. He eyes Jake. “Why are you up?”

“Wanted to get a jump start on my day I suppose.” Jake responds to his twin, rather flatly.

Josh turns to you and smiles. “Is that my coffee?”

You let out a small laugh and nod.

“You’re my absolute favorite person, you know that?” Josh gushes as he heads over to you and wraps you in a hug while grabbing his coffee.

You giggle at him. “So sappy Joshy.”

He plants a kiss on your head dramatically. “Ah, just for you.”

Jake clears his throat.

You're transported back to reality for a moment and realize how cozy you and Josh are. To you, this felt normal. Natural even. But you could see how it might look to Jake.

“Anyway, I had planned on making you breakfast before your big trip. But it appears you only have Ritz crackers and margarita mix.”

Josh laughs. “Now that is a meal. Don’t sweat it, let me go get everything ready and we’ll stop somewhere before you drop me off.”

Josh grabs his mug and darts off towards the stairs, leaving you and Jake in silence. You take a few sips of your coffee, leaning against the countertops. Jake has resumed reading his book while absentmindedly tapping his fingers on the counter. You had come to learn this was something he did when he had a particular riff stuck in his head.

Finally, you broke the silence. “Better go get ready.”

He glanced over at you. “Sure.”

You couldn’t help but notice the bite in his tone.

**

It was too early for any normal breakfast place to be open so you and Josh settled at a Dunkin Donuts close to the airport.

“Pink frosted sprinkled donuts are my spirit animal I think.” You joked, biting into your sweet treat.

Josh smiled at you. “That donut is an embodiment of you.”

“Philosophical Joshua. I have a confession though…”

He raises an eyebrow at you. “Do tell.”

“Pink frosted sprinkle donut. Right? But what’s the flavor? It doesn’t taste like artificial strawberry or like medicine, bubblegum or cotton candy. The taste is simply… pink.”

Josh cackles and claps at your revelation. “Oh my god. You finally get it now babe.”

Babe? That was new. It made a warmness flutter in your chest.

You tried not to sound bashful. “Yeah, I think I do.”

Josh smiled at you as he licked chocolate frosting from his thumb and sighed. “We should head over soon.”

You frowned. “You’re probably right.”

He grins. “That’s typically the case.”

You fake roll your eyes. “Can it.”

You put your car in reverse and drive the short distance to the drop off at the airport. Josh is lightly humming to a Joe Cocker song that had come on shuffle. Somehow during the short ride his hand found it’s way on yours. You tried not to think too much on it, but it felt nice. What the fuck was happening to you?

The bustle of the airport was still chaotic even at this ungodly hour.

“Fuck.” Josh muttered.

“Hey, be safe okay? Keep me updated on when you land and all that.” You say.

“Yes ma’am. Thank you for taking me. I really appreciate everything.”

You softly smile at him. “Of course.”

“Well.” He groans. “Better go before that whistle starts blowing.”.

He leans over and grips you in a tight hug before grabbing his carry-on and opening the door.

“It’s not really a goodbye. Just a farewell for now.” Josh offers with a bright smile, standing at the door.

“Okay people move along!” One of the traffic officers yell accompanied by a whistle.

“See? Told ya. These fuckin whistles.” Josh scoffs.

You laugh at him. “Be safe! Come back in one piece please.”

He winks at you. “I’ll try.”

**

A dreadfully boring Wednesday had rolled around. The week had already been long, you had been in the office the past three days. It was now nearing dark and you were so excited to throw some frozen orange chicken in the air fryer and make a lazy version of stirfry as soon as you had gotten home. Traffic had been brutal and you were on the final stretch, finally making that turn towards your townhome. You parked your car and grabbed your work tote, thankful that you only had one more day to work this week until you had three days off. Subsequently, you were so excited to see Josh again. You two had kept in touch of course calling and texting, but you were both also busy. You unlocked your door and kicked your black heels off at the door. You threw your tote bag and baby blue blazer down on the table. You know you shouldn’t cook dinner in your work attire, but your stomach is too empty for you to care. You tied an apron around your waist, trying to hide the white bodysuit and baby blue slacks from any stains. Then you got to work taking out your frozen vegetables and putting them in the skillet with oil. You put on a Dire Straits album and swayed around your kitchen as you let your mind wander. It was liberating doing such a mundane task after a long day. A knock at your door disrupted your thoughts. You made at face and glanced at your phone. No texts from anyone and you weren’t expecting company. You wiped your hand on a dish towel and felt ready to let whoever was on the other side of that door that they needed to go. But when you opened the door you were taken aback slightly. It was Jake. He had a toolbox on hand.

“Good evening Sugar.” He smirked.

You furrowed your brows at him. “Jake, what are you doing?”

He shrugged. “Sam had mentioned something about some bathroom shelves.”

You pursed your lips together. “I can hang them.”

He laughed and stepped by you into your house. “As if. Come on let me do this for you Sugs. Friends remember?”

You huffed a little. “Okay. Well, um I’m cooking dinner. Orange chicken stirfry. Would you like some?”

He smiled at you. “Absolutely. Nice place you got here. Want to direct me to where you would like these shelves?”

**

You had lit a scented candle. Why? You don’t know. For some reason you were nervous. You could hear Jake with a drill in your bathroom as you anxiously tapped your fingers as you plated the food. You took two plates and sat it on your kitchen table, then grabbed two wine glasses and your favorite bottle of moscato. You placed everything down, took your apron off, and smoothed your hair before heading towards your bathroom. He was just finishing hanging the first shelf. His brows pinched up in concentration, while he had a drill bit hanging out of his mouth. He had always been a perfectionist.

“Looks good.” You say, standing in the doorway crossing your arms.

He pops the drill bit out of his mouth and turns to give you a smile. “Yeah?”

You nod. “Dinner’s ready.”

You turn back heading towards the kitchen and hear Jake picking up. He joins you just a few minutes after and takes a seat across from you while you scroll on your phone.

“Oh Sug, this smells great.” He says with a smirk.

You place your phone down and force a laugh. “Thanks. Most of it is frozen though. I rarely have time to cook anything else. Wine?”

“Please.” He says, tipping his glass towards you.

You uncork the bottle and pour the chilled wine half way full in each glass.

“It’s my favorite. Not too sweet, not too bitter.”

Jake swirls the wine around in the glass and brings it to his nose before taking a sip. “Wow okay, yeah. You have good taste.”

You shrug and try to act like that’s not a huge compliment coming from him as you poke around your plate with your fork.

“So, tell me all about you. What’s new?” Jake asks, taking a bite of food.

You hum. “Nothing too exciting. I work a lot. I occasionally go out and I enjoy going to the park to read.”

“Enthralling stuff there honey. But let’s cut the boring shit here. That’s not us. What’s really been going on? Have you dated anyone seriously since me?”

You can’t help but smile at his bluntness. “No, not seriously anyway. Have you?”

“No.” He responds with a grin.

You take a sip of your wine. “That doesn’t surprise me.”

He raises an eyebrow at you but keeps that grin on his face. “How come?”

“Well Jake, you’re not exactly relationship material.”

He cocked his head to the side. “Maybe not for most. But I was for you.”

You felt your cheeks grow pink. Fuck. Why did he affect you like this? Play it cool. “Right.”

“Despite everything. I always thought about you. Wondered about how you were, what you were doing, who you were with. Sometimes I would think I would look out into the crowd at a show and see you there.” He admitted, flicking his gaze towards the table as he talked.

The wine had made you feel warm inside, at least you told yourself that was the reason. “I’ve been fine. Building my career, working on myself, loving myself.” You paused, finding those honey brown eyes. “But of course I had thought about you too. From time to time.”

He smiled at your acknowledgment. “Well hot damn. After all of this time, look at us huh? Who would’ve thought we’d end up here?”

You shook your head and laughed. “Not me.”

After you two had wrapped up dinner and finished the whole entire bottle of wine you had changed into lounge clothes and migrated to your couch, spending hours talking and giggling. At some point Jake’s hand found its way to rest on your calf as you sat criss cross facing him while he leaned towards you.

“So moral of the story, that’s why Sam no longer drinks kombucha before shows.”

You giggled at his stories as he tried to fill you in on every major detail that had happened since you two had last been together.

“God you really have lived an adventure huh?” You ask, twisting the ends of your hair.

He nods. “And I hope it’s only getting started. It’s been so surreal and being here in Nashville makes me want to stay. There’s so many different people and the weather. Oh the weather.”

You nod your head. “That’s what did it for me. I don’t think I would survive a full Michigan winter again.”

He placed his hand on your hip and began to tickle you. “Nope. You’re too warm blooded now.”

You leaned back in a fit of laughter. “Jake! Stopppp!”

He continued and leaned over you. “Mhm I know all your spots Sugar.”

He finally stops and you brush your hair out of your face. He’s essentially on top of you, in between your legs. “You’re such a little shit. You know that?” You say lightheartedly.

He leans closer to you, the tip of his hair tickling your collarbones. “Now that’s not nice to say darlin. Do I need to remind you how sweet I can be too?”

Your heart is thumping in your chest as you two make fierce eye contact with each other. The wine has you feeling giddy. But, you’re saved by the bell as your phone begins to ring loudly on the coffee table. It jolts you from your thoughts and your position. You reach over and grab your phone seeing “Josh” pop up on your screen along with a silly picture of you two.

“One sec.” You say to Jake, who clearly seems disappointed. You run to your room and close the door.

“Hello?”

His chipper voice rings back at you. “Hey there, pretty lady. It’s been an insanely busy day, I’ve just now got a five minute break to have my own thoughts. What have you been up to today?”

You clear your throat, trying not to sound as flustered as you feel. “Oh you know, same old same old. Just a long day of working. I made stir fry for dinner.”

He sighs into the phone. “Now that sounds good. I’ve been living mostly on takeout and party foods.”

You huff a laugh. “Party foods? Oh poor you.”

He returns your laugh. “I know it’s rough out here. Hey listen they’re about to call back for me. It was good to hear your voice. I’ll give you a call tomorrow?”

“You better. Have fun, be safe.”

You collected yourself and cleared your throat before heading back into your living area. You found Jake in the kitchen cleaning up after dinner.

“Everything okay?” He asked, rinsing a plate.

“Mhm. Yeah yeah, just checking in. Hey you don’t have to clean up. I can do it.” You offer, stepping in to help.

He shakes his head. “No, I got it. I’m going to finish up and I’ll be out of your hair. I know you have work tomorrow.”

You nod, trying to decipher if you were relieved or disappointed.

“Care if I come back by tomorrow to put that other shelf in?” He asks with a soft smile.

“Sure. I can make dinner again.”

And you did. He had come over again Thursday night, installed your shelf, and you two had made pizzas together. A flood of nostalgia flooded you as you two had rolled the dough out. Jake put a dab of flour on your cheek and you returned the favor with pizza sauce. This was a date you two had before, but this time there was no arguing. In fact, the night had gone quite pleasantly. You had watched a movie and Jake went home after. He kept his hands, mostly to himself- which surprised you. You had woken up on Friday morning in a haze. The past two days had felt surreal with Jake. Part of you had believed maybe you had hallucinated the whole thing, but when you saw how perfectly your shelves were hung you smiled to yourself. Josh would be home Sunday morning, but all you could think about is if Jake would try to come by again. You checked your phone. Nothing but a Snapchat from Josh. In the past two days you had unblocked Jake and even shared a text or two. You decided to try and push him out of your mind and switched it up today, going for a hot yoga class. This was a little further of a drive than your pilates studio, but the drive cleared your mind. After yoga you felt energized and grabbed a coffee to get you through the rest of the day. You decided to stop at a shopping plaza to treat yourself. While gandering at all the pretty little things you felt your phone vibrating in your purse.

Jake.

Your heartbeat picked up and you felt a rush go through you as you answered.

“Good morning Sugar. Do you have any plans later?”

You decided to play it cool. “Nothing too concrete. Why?”

“Great. I’ll pick you up later. Before you ask, wear whatever you want. You look good in anything. I’m about to head to the studio, but be ready by 8.”

You glanced at the black lacy matching set you had in your hands. This would do.

**

7:58. You stared at the clock on your wall, tapping your fingers absentmindedly on your couch as you waited for Jake. You felt unusually nervous, as if you hadn’t been on a date with him before. Was this a date? Who in the hell knew. Your feelings were scattered everywhere. But the one thing you knew was that Jake had sunk his claws right into you again. Everything inside of you was screaming no while also simultaneously screaming yes. You had decided on a casual little orange dress that complimented your tan perfectly with platform sandals and gold jewelry. You put loose curls in your hair and did an ample amount of makeup. You felt summery and pretty. You hoped Jake would think so as well.

A knock on your door at 8 pm sharp jolted you from your thoughts.

“Hello gorgeous.” Jake said, stepping in and handed you a small bouquet of red roses.

“Do friends buy each other flowers?” You ask, trying to play off that this was the first time he had ever gotten you flowers.

He smirked at you. “They can. Ready to go?”

You two had ended up at a stylish little cocktail garden across town. Jake had reserved a table on the rooftop, pretty hidden from the rest of the crowd. You both selected different specialty cocktails and ordered a quite large charcuterie board.

“This place is cute.” You said sipping your drink and surveying your surroundings.

He flashed you a smile. “I thought you might think so. Very ‘Nashville.’”

You laugh. “Jake, baby, not every place with neon signs is distinctly Nashville.”

You feel your blood run cold as you just realized you had let that word slip out. Fuck these drinks were strong.

Of course he had noticed it too and bit down on his straw giving you a sly smile with those eyes. “Sure, but the fake flowers on the wall and shitty country music makes it feel that way.”

You hold your hands up in defense. “Hey I know you love your dingy little hole in the walls. But time and place for everything. At least enjoy the oxygen that isn’t littered with cigarette smoke.”

He raises an eyebrow at you. “Since when is cigarette smoke a problem for you?”

You grab your straw and perhaps suggestively take a sip while locking eyes with him. “Time and place for everything Jake.”

When the charcuterie board arrived you both had picked at the selections while continuing to drink. You giggled and laughed and then giggled some more. You were smitten with him yet again. You weren’t dumb, you knew it wouldn’t last. The hell would come. But for now, you allowed yourself to keep your head in the clouds.

“I don’t think I can drive Sugs. Care if we Uber back?” Jake asks, finishing off drink number-hell you had lost count.

“That’s a smart idea. Gonna go to the bathroom before we leave.” You slightly slurred.

The walk to the bathroom proved a little off-kilter. You were on the cusp of tipsy and your brain was swirling with bad decisions.

You glanced at yourself in the mirror, lightly rolling on lipgloss and fluffing your hair before making your way back out. Jake had already taken care of the tab and was waiting for you out front.

“Uber should be here in about 15 minutes.”

You nodded and followed him into a crowded elevator. You two had to squeeze in, which meant you were pressed into each other. Jake glanced down at you with a certain look in his eye that made your mouth water. His hand snaked around your waist, his fingers pressing into your hip. A spot that he knew would rile you up. You bit your lip and held your breath. You didn’t dare breathe again until you were at the bottom.

“That elevator was pretty cramped huh?” You played, stepping outside of the building.

He shrugged, matching your walking pace up the sidewalk. “I didn’t mind it.”

You lightly shoved him. “I’m sure you didn’t.”

He smirked at you. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

You shoved him again, slightly harder. “Oh yeah? What are you going to do about it?”

He signed. “You’re done Sugs.” He scooped you up and tickled at your side.

“Jake!” You giggled out through laughter. “Put me down! Jake I swear!”

He continued. “Or what Sugs?”

“Jacob Thomas!”

He laughed. “Okay fine. Fine. No need for government names.”

He placed you down and you braced up against the concrete wall and you fixed your hair that had gone wild. “You don’t play fair.”

He stepped up closer to you and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “There. Perfect as always.”

His eyes searched for yours, his gaze intensely switching to your lips. Fuck it. You pushed yourself up on your tiptoes and kissed him, hard. There was zero protest from him as his hands immediately found your waist. Warmth flooded your senses and you felt entirely weightless. You lightly bit his bottom lip which caused a small groan to leave his mouth.

“Now who’s not playing fair?” He growled into your ear as his fingers found that spot on your hip.

The intense session was interrupted by Jake’s phone buzzing. He cleared his throat. “Uber’s here.”

You nodded and took his hand as he led you into the car. Neither one of you spoke the whole entire ride home. Jake kept his hand firmly planted on your upper thigh while both of you took stolen glances at one another.

“Thanks.” Jake said, tossing a stack of bills at the driver.

He guided you up to the door, standing close as you fidgeted with your keys.

Finally, once inside and the door was closed. His lips were on yours again. His hands running wildly up and down your body, your hands in his hair as you two shuffled through your house. Somehow you two had made your way into the kitchen.

“Fuck, you don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for this.” He panted in between kisses.

He backed you up against the counter, his eyes glaring into yours. Then his rough hands run under your thighs as he lifts you and places you on the counter. Neither one of you had dared to speak yet. Then Jake broke the silence.

“So pretty.” He spat, as his hands ran up under your dress.

You were impossibly turned on. Anticipation sat in your throat like a softball.

You bit your lip as his hands hooked around your panties. He pulled them down and scooted you closer to him. He bunched up your dress right to the very beginning of your thighs.

“So fucking pretty.” He stated again.

You squirmed under his touch as he raked his fingertips around your inner thighs.

“Jake, stop teasing.” You said, though it came out more as a beg.

He smiled at you, then craned his head down and kissed you on your sweetest spot.

A jolt ran through your body.

“So needy. My pretty girl, so needy for me.” He says with a smirk. “Let’s see how wet you are, Sugar.”

He takes one finger and slides it in between you, just grazing. You slightly buck your hips, desperate for some sort of friction. Desperate for that feeling that only Jake had given you.

“Whew, fuck Sugar.” Jake says, taking that same finger and popping it in his mouth. “So sweet, just like I remember. So wet for me.”

You huff out at him. You’re beyond ready to beg, but he can’t have that satisfaction. You have to play the game right back. “As if you’re not about to bulge out of your pants right now. Face it Jake, you’ve never had better.”

He grips your thighs. “You’re right about that. You drive me crazy Sugar. Especially when that pretty mouth says such filthy things.”

“Jake.” You say looking down at him, batting your eyelashes. “Can you just shut up and fuck me?”

His mouth falls open slightly at that and he stares up at you completely enamored.

You use this as an opportunity to tease him. You slide back and open your legs a little more.

“What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?” You say with as much sex in your voice that you could muster.

Jake takes in a deep breath and then a devilish smirk appears on his face. “No.” He starts. “But it’s about to.”

He licks a stripe up your thigh whilst holding eye contact with you. Then, he smiles before burying his face in between your legs.

You arch your back and tilt your head backwards as soft moans escape your lips. Jake shimmys your dress up even further, then slides his fingers into you.

“Fuck.” You whined, which only egged him on further.

“Yeah come on baby. Give me all of those pretty little sounds.” He begged.

His fingers worked expertly with his mouth. Like he had your body etched into his mind and he knew how to make you unraveled. Just as you were right there, white hot- he stopped. You unclenched your eyes and looked down at him in shock. He smirked back up at you and lightly bit your thigh.

“Come on Sugs. What’s the rush? Let’s take this to your room.”

You scoffed at him, hopping off the counter and pulling your panties back up. You were bewildered, but you knew him edging you was a sick little kink of his. You followed him into your bedroom where your lips connected once more. You unbuttoned his shirt while he kicked off his shoes. You pushed him back onto the bed where he raised up on his elbows and watched you intently. You slowly began to pull at the sleeves on your dress and dropped it to the floor, leaving you just in the black lacy little number you had just bought.

“God damn.” Jake barely whispered as he watched you with full blown lust.

“Oh this little thing?” You teased running your hands over the lace.

He swallowed hard. “Fuck. You are so fucking hot. I- Get over here please.”

You laughed. “I thought there was no rush?”

You turned around walking towards your dresser, giving him a nice show of your plump ass.

“Oh my god.” He all but groaned. You could sense him twitching over there, just itching to get his hands on you.

You struck a match and lit a small candle. “That’s better isn’t it?”

He nodded.

You walked over to him, slowly. His eyes were trained on you. You straddled his lap and his hands immediately found your hips, the whole entire time you stared into each other’s eyes. So much unspoken. So much unsaid. He leaned in and kissed you with fervor. His hands immediately gripping at the flesh of your ass. You were the first to slip out your tongue, but were met eagerly with his. You worked quickly to undo his belt and pants. He managed to shimmy them off while never breaking the kiss. You both leaned by entirely, you slowly grinded down onto his boxers causing him to almost lose it right there. You would start and get him worked up, then stop. Playing his own game right back at him. This earned you a swift smack on your ass. “You little tease.”

You sat up, fully shifting your lower half on top of him. “What’s wrong Jakey? Can dish it out but can’t take it?”

He let out a laugh. “We gonna play these games all night or are you going to let me fuck you? I can ruin that pretty makeup by having you in tears, begging me to let you come. Or I can fuck you so hard you won’t be able to think straight. Both are equally intriguing to me. Your choice baby.”

You tilted your head to the side. “Still think you’re up for the task? Can you even make me come, Jake?”

In a swift motion he flipped you over, him now on top of you. He pinned your hands above your head, holding them there. “Such a little brat. I could think of a better way to put that mouth to use. Looks like you chose the hard way.”

Excitement bubbled in your chest. No one ever got you this worked up, it was only him.

He released your hands and ripped your panties off of you. He pulled the fabric apart until it ripped.

“Jake!”

He didn’t flinch. “I’ll buy you one hundred more of these, especially if I can take them off of you like this.”

He grabbed your hands again, tying them up in the now ripped lace fabric. He slides down next to you, his fingers finding your center to begin work. After a few seconds you’re already squirming.

“Thought you were clever huh Sug? Asking me if I still can make you come?”

You flutter your eyes closed, trying to recenter yourself. Jake slapped your core. “Eh uh. Eyes on me.”

You pry your eyes open to watch him, trying your best to act like you weren’t on fire inside.

He kissed below your navel, making your shutter. “Did you miss me?”

You refused to answer that.

“Mhm I think you did. Do you touch yourself and think of me?” He asked, in a sickeningly sweet voice as he continued his descent.

“No.” You say, calmly.

He nips at your thigh. “It’s okay if you do. Sometimes I find myself thinking of you, late at night.”

You huffed as he continued to tease you.

“Not as sweet as the real thing though.” He made contact making an obscene slurping sound that made you twitch.

Then he stopped again coming back up to kiss you.

“Taste that? That’s you. My sweet girl.”

“You’ve made your point. Just fucking touch me.” You all but whined.

He chuckled at you. “So demanding.”

He unties your hands while freeing himself from his boxers. Then he flips you around and spreads your knees wider. You arch your back, silently begging for him to enter you.

“Fuck. Now there’s a view I would never get tired of.”

He slides himself all around you, still trying to tease you, but you could tell he was faultering. Slowly, he sunk into you. A moan left both of your mouths. He took his time but finally pushed himself all the way in.

“Ah fuck. Fuck baby.” He cooed.

He reached down and pulled you up, so you were flushed with him. Then reached down and rubbed at your bundles of nerves, sending you almost right over the edge.

“Jake- fuck don’t stop.” You whined.

He bit at your jaw. “Who fucks you like this? Who is the only person who will ever fuck you like this?”

“You! It’s you.” You barely spit out.

That warmness spread all over your body and you were about to explode. You squeezed him with everything you had.

“That’s right. You’re such a good girl Sugar. Fuck.” He grunted.

“Jake I’m- I’m.”

He removed his hand. “I know. I wanna see your face when you come for me.”

He unclasped your bra, tossing it to the side and flipped you over on your back.

“Fucking gorgeous.”

His hands massaged your breasts before lightly biting at your hardened nipples.

You were now in the home stretch, both of you struggling to hold on. Jake hooked your leg up over his shoulder and started to pound into you.

You could see the sweat beginning to trickle on him as his hair stuck to his face and neck. He guided your hand down to your sweet spot and guided you. “Almost there baby. Eyes on me.”

You locked eyes with him and that’s all it took. That wave came crashing down, completely washing you away with it. Jake was right behind you and you could feel him release into you. You gripped his shoulders while his mouth found yours, swallowing all of your sounds.

“Shit.” Jake groaned, rolling off of you. Both of you absolutely spent. Sweat, sex, and panting still filled the air. You reached over and grabbed a pack of American Spirits from your bedside table, they were old but necessary. You flicked a lighter and lit it while Jake looked at you with a smirk.

You shrugged and met his eyes. “Time and place for everything. Remember?”

**

Light filtered in through your blinds the next morning gently waking you. You turned to your side. Empty. Should have figured. Fuck, you were sore. You groaned as you stretched out making your way to the bathroom. You jumped in the shower to wash off the smell of sex and nicotine then brushed your teeth. You couldn’t tell if you were slightly hungover or slightly sad. Of course he left, that’s what he does. Coffee. You needed coffee badly. You tossed a giant band tee on and some cotton underwear and combed through your hair before padding out into your living room. Also empty. The refrigerator was embarrassingly barren. Leftover pizza, expired creamer, and strawberries. You needed to go to the grocery store, badly. You snickered at the thought of Josh seeing your refrigerator like this. He would playfully scold you and force you to Publix. You missed him. A loud noise crashed through your apartment and you jolted out of your thoughts.

“Jake? What the fuck! You scared me!” You clutched your chest.

Jake had bounded through the door with a coffee carrier and brown paper bags. A sight you never thought you would see.

“Don’t look so surprised to see me Sugs. Did you think I would have just up and left.” He asked with a smirk.

You can’t help but let out a small laugh. “Well yeah.”

He shakes his head at you. “I stole your keys so I could let myself back in. Had to Uber to get my car and then I got us breakfast. Hope you like breakfast burritos and coffee that’s a little too sweet.”

A smile twisted up on your lips. That was thoughtful?

“I do. Thank you.” You say, walking over to the counter to grab a coffee. You took a sip, it wasn’t your normal complicated vanilla latte. But it would do.

You both had plopped down at your table, somewhere you had found yourselves often the past few days and ate breakfast together.

“So, Danny and I have a meeting today. Some sort of podcast thing, but I’ll be free after. Care to go out again?” Jake asks, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

You bite your lip. “Josh comes back tomorrow.”

He shakes his head. “Uh huh.”

“Jake, he can’t know- about any of this really. He would freak out.” You say cautiously.

He gives you a sly smile. “S’okay Sugar. I’ll be your dirty little secret.”

You tap his arm. “I’m serious.”

He sighs at you and holds up a hand. “Fine. Scout’s honor.”

“Then yes, we can go out again tonight. But it can’t be a repeat of last night, I have to pick him up from the airport and do not want to be hungover.” You say, standing your ground.

Jake shrugs. “I dunno, maybe it could just be a little bit of a repeat from last night.”

You crack a smile and shake your head at him. What in the hell had you gotten yourself into again.

**

“I am so happy to see you!” Josh says, climbing into your car and squeezing your shoulders with a hug.

You smile at him. “I missed you too. I can’t wait to hear about all of your adventures.”

He huffs. “I have so many to share. Can I run by my place and shower and then come over? I am craving a home cooked meal so badly.”

You click your blink and laugh. “Well yes, but I don’t have much to cook. You would be appalled at the state of my refrigerator right now.”

“Hey, you have to take care of yourself. Change of plans; I’ll call in Chinese tonight and pick it up on my way over. First thing in the morning we are going grocery shopping.” He says in a caring tone.

“Deal.” You agree.

After dropping Josh off you had decided to tidy up a bit before he came over. You had already done a sweep of your house, making sure there were no remnants of Jake lying around anywhere. You had spent last night together again in a similar fashion to the night before. The last thing you wanted was for Josh to know that.

“These egg rolls are fresh today.” Josh said, stepping into your house.

“Oh I can tell it smells good.” You took the bags from Josh and placed them on the counter.

“Can you turn on that documentary we were watching last week? I’ll be right back, my bladder is about to explode.”

You chuckled and set out all of the food on your coffee table then started searching for whatever you two had previously watched. Once it was queued up you grabbed and extra blanket and waited for Josh. A few moments later he came walking into your living room.

“Shelves?”

You turned around and made a face at him. “What?”

He pointed behind him. “You hung your bathroom shelves?”

Fuck.

“Oh-uh yeah. It wasn’t too hard actually.” You tried to say as nonchalantly as possible.

He made a face at you. “Where did you get the tools?”

You shrugged. “I borrowed them from a neighbor. Come on, I'm starving and this food is going to get cold!”

He chewed on his cheek and eventually joined you on the couch. You hated lying to him, but the alternative would be worse.

That night you two had ended up asleep on the couch. You were wrapped in Josh’s arms, but his twin was the one occupying your mind.

***

Thank you for reading!!! <3

[cyberphuck]

ROYAL ASSASSIN ABRIDGED: PART TWO

My friend Razz wants to understand my shitposting about Robin Hobb’s Farseer Trilogy, but they don’t want to actually have to read the books, so I’m summarizing it for them (and you)! (Check out all the other entries in the Farseer Trilogy Abridged series at the masterpost. Also if you think I’m funny you can send me a ko-fi from there.)

EDIT: added some strikethroughs where they were supposed to go and put something funny where I had just left the reminder to write something funny. Last Time on Dragon Book Z (rip Toriyama sensei), Fitz finally made it home from the mountains. He’d seen via Skill-o-Vision that Molly had been viked by Vikings, and he was desperate to see if she’d flagged herself ‘safe’ from Being Raided on Facebook…

The next day, Fitz is minding his own business being told by Cook Sara that he looks like shit when he spontaneously decides to climb sixty four flights of stairs. Considering that his tiny teenaged body is still 89% poison by volume and he just got home from the worst road trip of his life (so far!), by the time he gets to the top he's facedown on the floor, pushing himself along by his toes.

  “Hello, Lil Accident,” Verity says, putting down his binoculars. “Wow, you look like shit.”

  “So I’ve been told,” Fitz mumbles to the floor. ”You look a lot less skeletal than when I last saw you.“

  ”Thanks! I had sex.“

  Fitz tries to get up and fails. ”I didn't even know you'd be up here.”

  “Aha, but you see, I Skilled you here, and you didn't even know it. In fact I've been balls-deep in your brain for a week with you none the wiser, because this is a thing I can do with the Skill.“

  Fitz spits out a mouthful of dust. ”Wow, when do I get to learn that kind of thing?“

  ”Never,“ Verity smiles, turning back to the window. ”Come look at my ships.“

  Dragging himself up to the windowsill, Fitz peeks out. “Neat! We'll be able to defend ourselves against the Vikings with these for sure!“

  ”Yes,” Verity growls. “And I can't wait to continue the cycle of violence by going all the way to the Viking home planet and viking them back!“

  Somewhere downstairs, the Fool rubs his temples, sighing loudly.

  ”Anyway, now that I've forced you to climb all the way up here, let's go back down so I can get something to eat.” Verity picks Fitz up by the scruff of his neck. “I want to hear all about your little trip to the Big Onion.“

  They head down to Verity's man cave, and after watching 'ASSASSIN'S APPRENTICE ENDING EXPLAINED— WHAT REALLY HAPPENED TO AUGUST,' Verity reads the comments, most of which point out that Regal should have totally died in a fire for plotting to kill his own brother and murdering a bunch of the wedding party.

  Fitz looks at the hay bale in the corner, where the Fool is updating his Linkedin. ”Listen, I have a way bigger part in this book than the last one,“ the Fool says without looking up. ”I'm not gonna have time to re-explain who everybody is to you whenever you want. I've got a big death scene coming up.“

  ”You're going to die?!“ Fitz cries.

  ”Someone is,“ the Fool murmurs.

  ”You're probably wondering why I haven't punished Regal for any of the stuff he did last book,“ Verity says, steepling his fingers. ”And the truth is, I'm not going to, because he'll just throw a temper tantrum about it and I don't want to deal with that.“

  ”What if he tries to kill one of us again?“

  ”Pff, don't worry about it, Lil Accident.“ Verity waves him off. ”You can take tomorrow off to go look for your dead girlfriend.“

  Fitz stands up. ”Thanks Prince Verity, I'm gonna go have a seizure before bed.“

  But as soon as he steps out of the room, Lacey jumpscares him and drags him off to go see Lady Patience, who is laying in a pile of her current hyperfixations. ”You missed the wedding,” she says accusingly.

  ”Sorry, Mrs. My Dead Dad's Wife,“ Fitz sighs. ”Regal tried to, uh, do whatever the opposite of poisoning me and trying to drown me is, and now whenever I get excited I fall over.“ He accepts a glass of wine from Lacey, then dumps it over his head. “I've gotta move on to the next plot point now.”

  Fitz is staggering up the stairs, leaving a wet smear of Rosé after him, when a Servant Girl comes to take his arm. “Here, sir,” she says sweetly. “Let me help you weave drunkenly back to your chambers. Wouldn't want you falling down the stairs and breaking your stupid lying neck.”

  “Thanks, mysterious servant girl. You can drop me off at the corner, I’ll walk from here.”

  But instead of letting him have a seizure in peace, the Servant Girl punches him in the gut and kicks him in the nads, because she's Molly!

  “Holy shit, you're alive!” Fitz sobs. “Oh man, I had a vision that you got viked, it was awful—”

  Molly kicks him in the nads again. “I did get viked, and afterwards I came here looking for you to ask you to loan me some cash, or get married to me. My dumb ass went around to all the servants going 'hey, have you seen the scribe's apprentice, he looks just like FitzChivalry Farseer,' and someone filmed me and made a TikTok titled 'tfw you find out your boyfriend is really The Bastard.'”

  “Oh,” Fitz cringes.

  “Yeah 'oh,'” Molly says. “It has sixteen million views and hashtag Cat-Fitzed is trending on Twitter.”

  “It's called X now,” Fitz squeaks. “What about the older, hotter guy I saw you walking off with?“

  ”That was my cousin,“ Molly snarls. ”Do you think I'd date someone with an earring?“

  “Gosh, it's a good thing I don't wear one of those,” Fitz says, polishing his collar.

  ”Anyway, you're gross and I hate you,“ Molly declares. ”Do not, under any circumstances, continue to attempt to woo me. Goodbye.”

  Despite Fitz's best efforts, he continues to have a seizure any time he tries to do anything except have a seizure. Even into the next day, he's still ragdolling like a character in a seventy dollar video game on release day. The Fool appears briefly to catch a glimpse of Fitz in his underwear, but before they can do any real flirting, Lacey and Patience show up again.

  “Listen, Prince Dumbass,” Patience says, “you fucked up bigtime letting Molly think she was in your league. She came here thinking you'd grown up in a double-wide same as her, drinking off-brand kool aid and saving butter containers to use as tupperware. When people found out you lied to her, they started calling her a hump-and-dump.”

  “But we never even humped,” Fitz objects.

  “And it's a good thing, too, because as royalty you're only allowed to hump at the King's pleasure. Princes are not allowed to run around sticking their dick in whoever they want, that's how we ended up with you. You'd just make a bunch more Fitzes, and we don't have enough paid extras anymore to traumatize *all* of those kids.”

  “We could drown them,” Lacey suggests, working on a cross-stitch that says 'GALS BEING PALS.'

  ”They wouldn't be Fitzes if me and miss Molly got married,“ Fitz says. ”I'll just go and do that real quick.“

  Patience whacks him in the head with a rolled up newspaper. ”No! You're going to marry whoever the King tells you to marry, and no one else. We learned our lesson with Chivalry: we can never, ever allow you to have any control over your life whatsoever, and that includes caring about anyone other than whoever is wearing a crown that day. Besides, didn't you already sign a contract to do whatever King Shrewd told you to do without question forever?”

  “I was nine, I don't really feel like that was binding—”

  Patience grabs Fitz by the front of his shirt and jerks him forward. “Do not,” she says, “have sex with Molly. Do NOT have sex with Molly. DO NOT HAVE SEX WITH MOLLY.”

  “No promises,” Fitz shrugs. “Hey, do you have a backstory other than being the ADHD widow of my deadbeat dad?”

  Patience runs away crying. As soon as she's gone, Chade shows up. “Hey,” he says gently. “Don't cry. Kettricken's dad roped her into a political marriage and now she's miserable and lonely. That can happen for you, too.”

  “This sucks,” Fitz moans.

  “Remember not to have sex with Molly,“ Chade says as he crawls back into his wall-hole.

  ”Whatever. I'm going down into town to find my soulmate.”

  Fitz, wearing his slouchiest beanie, his blackest hoodie, and his unhappiest expression of teenaged angst, stomps down the road into Buckkeep town, hands shoved in his pockets. “Stupid Farseers,” he mutters. ”Always hasslin' me and tellin' me what to do. What do they know? Man, nobody understands what it's like to be me.“

  *Oh, you you think you got it bad, little bitch boy?*

  The entire fandom erupts into cheers and applause as the character in possession of the single teaspoon of sense in the entire series arrives.

  Fitz looks up, snarling, and locks eyes with a wolf trapped in a cage labeled 'ESSENTIAL NPC'. The angry little ball of fluff is just one of many wares sold by a dude in a full body fursuit. “Good morrow, emo child,” Fursuit says, oozing greasily forward. “I see you eyeballing that young cub. You know, an animal like that could really be useful if, say, you were a royal Bastard with Doctor Doolittle magic who was sent out to fight zombies a lot.“

  ”I'll trade you a pack of gum for him,“ Fitz offers.

  ”He's worth way more than that,“ Fursuit says. ”I went through all the trouble of building a rocketship for his wolf-mother and wolf-siblings so they could return to their home planet.“

  *I'll kick your ass! I'll kick everyone's ass! I'll kick my own ass!!*

  *'Shut up, I'm negotiating!'*

  ”A pack of gum AND this cool rock I found,“ Fitz bargains expertly, then kicks Fursuit in the shin, grabs the wolf, and runs off.

  Fitz carries Wolfcub back up to Buckkeep, looking forward to the 'wrestling with a wild animal to show dominance' scene, but then realizes that the cub is too weak and tiny to put up a good fight. What was even the point of having a pet wolf if he couldn't have a badass fight with it and then stand shirtless against the sunrise? Also, Fitz has already had two canines in his life bond to him and then have to return to their home planets, and he's kind of tired of that happening.

  *'My apartment has a no pets policy, so you're gonna have to stay in the tool shed,'* he tells Wolfcub. *'Don't wit-bond to me.'*

  Then, with nothing better to do, he leaves to go do the thing Patience and Chade explicitly told him not to: Have Sex With Molly.  ”The fuck is wrong with you lately?“ Burrich asks, some days later while he and Fitz are hanging out at the bar.

  Fitz sighs. ”I keep trying to have sex with Molly, but things are always getting in the way of my dick," he says mournfully.

  ”Mm. Been there,“ Burrich mutters, pulling down his sleeve to cover up his 'PATIENCE CHIVALRY BITTERNESS AND BURRICH 4 EVER' tattoo. ”Which one is Molly?“

  ”The hot one that kicks people in the nuts.“

  ”Oh, yeah. Half my age. I like that in a girl,“ Burrich says, and everybody decides to just go with it. ”Here's my advice to you: give up and move on. Get your post-rejection glow up, and your girl will go off to marry someone else.“

  ”That sounds like it sucks,“ Fitz says doubtfully. “When do I finally get to have sex with her?”

  Burrich grins. “That's the neat thing! You don't.”

  The next morning, Fitz gets out of bed, takes a big, cleansing breath, then puts his earbuds in and turns on his Montage Song.

  “Time for that glow up,” he says really loudly because he can't hear himself over the music.

  'Cause baby you're a firework

Fitz wrapping measuring tape around his bicep and frowning;

come on and show 'em what you're worth

running laps around the castle with Wolfcub chasing after him;

make 'em go oh! oh! Oh!

standing on one foot like in Karate Kid while Pat Morita decomposes nearby;

as you you shoot across the sky-ay-ay

Burrich taking away his AXE body spray and shoving him into the shower;

baby you're a firework!

carb-loading at the local Fantasy Pizzeria;

come on and let your colors burst

lifting weights while Wolfcub tries to bite him;

make 'em go oh! oh! Oh!

measuring his bicep again, and nodding in satisfaction.

you're gonna leave 'em all in awe, awe, awe

  “I'm bored,” Kettricken sighs as she and Fitz hang out with Kettricken's entourage. “I wish Verity would get me pregnant.“

  ”How can you be bored with fifty people constantly offering to play with you?“ Fitz says. ”Also, ew.“

  ”I could be back home fighting bears and lifting sacks over my head,” Kettricken whines, “but I'm stuck here in Lamesville with these boring losers and my husband is constantly off doing Skill stuff instead of having sex with me. Lady Modesty is constantly suggesting we watch the 2005 version of Pride and Prejudice,” she adds, disgusted.

  Fitz slaps her. “Your job here isn't to be butch! This castle has been a fucking sausage party for years, and the best person to Girlboss it up is you. That means making moodboards, drinking iced coffees, doing each other's nails and YES, watching the objectively worse version of Pride and Prejudice! Look at Lady Hopeful, she's unironically singing along to 'I Knew You Were Trouble'! Now suck it up, buttercup, and go watch the part where Mr. Darcy confesses his love to Elizabeth!”

  “Yes sir,” Kettricken mumbles.

  “Bastard, first name The?“ a messenger says as he clips through the wall. ”King Shrewd finally wants to see you.“

  Fitz stands up, brushes himself off, and heads up to Grandpa's house...