#dude. all his old content sucks fuck AND its creepy as hell??

[spearxwind]

every single time that the knowledge that onision exists enters my scope of perception i have to wonder how he hasnt been thrown in the slammer

[1moreoffkeyanthem]

Calling all enjoyers of the OrangeJuiceVerse and teenage shenanigans!

That’s right, it’s time for another episode of Bedtime Stories With PCE, and this one is SO self indulgent like I know that’s the purpose of this series, just self indulgent orange flavored bonus content, but this one, mannnnn.

Essentially (PCE stfu about OJV Kyle’s bad knee), I was thinking about how i really didn’t let my annoying ass get into the gang as 15 year olds very much post A Fall In The Springtime. So I wanted to explore that dynamic a little more, featuring stupid fights, getting scolded by your parents, Kyle being an angry little fucker, and the way one person in a friend group getting sick means everyone’s getting the plague lmao. Set a couple days after AFITS, here’s

•Fuck It, We Ball•

Stan sighed as he approached the bus stop, Cartman and Kyle already engrossed in whatever they were arguing about now. And so it begins.

He planted himself at Kenny’s side, kicking at the slush that had refrozen with the temperature dropping again over the last few days. Damn March and its unpredictability. “Dude, how do they have the energy for this at seven in the morning?”

“Oh, you know how these two get when they’re bored,” Kenny said nonchalantly. “Probably why Ky suggested takin’ the bus today.”

That made sense. While Stan and the others had taken to making their own ways to school being sophomores, carpooling and the like for the most part, occasionally they’d all load up on the bus for nostalgia’s sake on days nobody had to stay late for extracurriculars. Kyle had been leading the charge in that the past couple weeks, bored being out of basketball and irritable while his knee healed. It honestly wasn’t surprising that he’d find excitement in the childhood routine of debating Cartman, and Cartman just liked to rile Kyle up in general, not that it was hard these days. Stan had laughed his ass off just the other day at his boyfriend’s claim that he was “drowning in ennui”. Dramatic, but warranted.

“IT WAS STUPID WHEN WE WERE NINE, AND IT’S MORE RIDICULOUS NOW!” Stan’s attention was drawn to his boyfriend’s shrill screeching. “BEING GINGER IS NOT LIKE BEING A VAMPIRE!”

Cartman was grinning in a very self satisfied way. “You burn in the sun, you’re creepy, you suck souls…”

“YOU’RE SO GODDAMN STUPID!!!”

Kyle, directly ensnared in their friend’s trap, moved to swing at him with a crutch, but overshot and was slipping forward, slamming into the ground with a loud “FUCK!”

Stan, Kenny, and even Cartman froze, eyes wide and speechless because Kyle was already hurt; slipping on the ice like that had no doubt made it worse. Kyle curled into the fetal position, clutching his bad knee and cursing up a storm. Stan ran to him in an instant.

“Dude, shit, okay, okay. Fuck, did you hit it?”

“What the HELL do you think,” Kyle hissed, writhing a little in the snow. He’d only recently been able to bend his knee semi-normally again, only with support, and here he was holding it to his chest in a way that definitely couldn’t be comfortable.

“S-Stan, I… GOD, FUCK YOU CARTMAN!!!”

That back and forth was always a good indicator of Kyle’s level of aggravation. He was extremely quick when he was upset enough. Less aggressive on his own, Stan jumped to his partner’s defense without hesitation.

“Why the shit would you work him up like that, huh?!?” Stan demanded, taking their obnoxious friend by the collar of his coat. He gave him a shake, not enough to actually hurt, but Cartman still whined like a pitiful little creature. “He can’t fight anyone yet! He can’t even stand!”

Kyle dragged himself a little down the ice. “I can buttfucking stand! Dramaticfuckass-“

He crumpled under the weight of his own body. Stan caught his neck before his head could whack the ice. “Dude!”

“I’m going to obliterate you,” Kyle warned.

Stan wanted to roll his eyes, but didn’t dare. Instead, he gently scooped Kyle into his arms, relieved when he felt wiry arms latch instinctually around his neck. He turned to the other two as he rose. “Grab his shit.”

Thankfully, Kyle’s house was the closest to the bus stop, and under the rapid pounding of his own heart, Stan could hear Kyle’s pissed off mumbling and sporadic whimpers of pain.

“I’m trying to be careful, dude,” he promised. “I know it’s still hurting.”

“Yeah, because some FAT ASSHOLE made me FALL!” Kyle seethed in Cartman’s direction.

“Ay! You’re the one who was trying to hit me, JewBot!”

Stan spun around to shoot Cartman a glare. “You started it and you know it, fuckknob. Give the backpack to Kenny and fuck off to school if you’re gonna keep causing problems.”

Cartman snorted. “I would, but Kahl’s bitch mom is going to pitch a fit and I happen to find that shit funny, obviously.”

“DON’T CALL MY MOM A BITCH!”

Ohhhh boy. It was definitely too early for all this. Kenny bounded up to the porch, using Kyle’s crutches to knock on the front door. “Guys, tone it down,” he advised before turning the knob. Nobody really locked their doors around here, and they all knew it.

“Yo, Mrs B!” Kenny announced their presence as the boys filed into the foyer.

Only Kyle’s mom would be home around this time, Stan knew. Ike usually rode to his early college high school program with their dad, since it was closer to Gerald’s firm. Sheila tended to fill her days with community meetings and clubs and volunteer work, but she usually stuck around the house until the rest of the family was safely at school and work, ruling the group chat with an iron fist. A veritable lioness when it came to her boys, that one.

Which was why her alarmed gasp upon seeing her eldest son glowering in Stan’s arms wasn’t surprising in the slightest.

“Kyle! Boys! What on earth happened?!”

“He slipped on the ice,” Stan explained, gingerly easing him down onto the couch. “Bashed his knee pretty good.”

Sheila let out a “WHAT?!?”, and Kyle groaned, clearly already done with his mother. “Ma, please don’t freak out. I just need to put it up a few hours or whatever, it’s fine.”

She planted her hands on her hips and stared each of the boys down like only a mother could. Cartman actually cowered a little, avoiding eye contact.

“And just how did you fall, huh, bubbeh?” She demanded of her son. “I thought I told you to be careful.”

Stan hated having to do damage control, but Sheila trusted him, so he was probably the best bet at the guys avoiding too much trouble. “He and Cartman were just arguing. You know how carried away they can get.”

“Don’t look at me, Mrs Broflovski,” Cartman said, putting his hands up in surrender. “Kahl tried to whack me! It’s not my fault his little bird bones gave out.”

“SHUT UP CARTMAN!”

“Kyle!” Sheila scolded. “Inside voices! And how many times do I have to tell you boys not to roughhouse when it’s slippery outside?”

All four of them mumbled varying apologies, even though he and Kenny hadn’t been involved. Kyle’s mom kept raving.

“And here I was about to head out the door! Oy, I’ll have to tell the book club ladies I won’t make it to brunch, and goodness! The PTA meeting will need to be rescheduled, and I suppose I’ll have to put out a grocery order for delivery and miss the deals I’d get going myself-“

“Ma,” Kyle interrupted, even more overwhelmed than he had been. “You don’t need to change your plans or anything. I know you have a full day.”

“You can’t just stay home alone! What if you’ve hurt your knee worse?!”

Stan could tell his boyfriend wanted to roll his eyes. “It really isn’t a big deal, okay? And I’m not alone. The guys can help me if I need anything.”

Kenny had already taken to removing Kyle’s hat for him and hanging it on the hook by the door. “Yeah, we got ‘im, scout’s honor.”

“The hippie would probably stay anyway,” Cartman pointed out. He had migrated to the kitchen and was rifling through the freezer, hopefully for an ice pack and not to raid the snacks.

Well, as much as Cartman was a dick, he wasn’t wrong. Stan had no intention of leaving Kyle’s side.

Kyle’s mom pursed her lips and checked her watch. Stan could practically see her internal conflict: would she deviate from her carefully curated schedule to stay home and smother her son, or would she let four teenage boys skip school and hang out in her living room? He turned on his best “charming and trustworthy” face; he usually had good luck with adults.

Sheila sighed, and Stan felt disproportionately victorious. The woman was even more expressive than Kyle was. Clearly, the gang was about to get a day off class with no grown up supervision. Yes!

“Fine,” she relented. “But only because I’m already running late. I’ll see if I can get all four of you an excused absence.”

That definitely wasn’t going to be an issue. Principal Charles would just love the idea of them practicing “wholesome male friendship and emotional support” and all that. If that wasn’t the conclusion the principal came to on his own, Cartman was a master manipulator and could talk himself, and the rest of them by extension, out of trouble.

Sheila grabbed her purse and bent down to kiss her son’s forehead, leaving a lipstick mark. “You’re a little warm, Kyle, do you feel-“

“Ma, I was wearing a hat,” Kyle groaned. “Please give the worrying a rest.”

“Fine, fine,” she clucked, shaking her head. “You boys just behave, do you hear me? And Stanley, you call me if I need to come home.”

“Yes ma’am.”

When the door shut behind her, Kyle groaned yet again, dramatically throwing his arms over his eyes. “I swear to God, she’s gonna be fussing over me like I’m a kid until the end of time.”

“Totally weak,” Cartman agreed.

“She just gets concerned about you,” Kenny reminded him. “I mean, it’s not like she doesn’t have a reason.”

Stan almost expected Kyle to fly into a rage at that, but he just sighed. “Can’t wait to be done with the goddamn crutches so she can chill the fuck out.”

Yeah, Sheila Broflovski ever chilling the fuck out was probably about as likely as Randy sobering up. Not gonna happen. And Kyle had gotten more than just the hair, nose, and height from his mother; he’d also gotten her temper, so Stan chose to let him believe she’d let up once he could walk.

“Ha! That’ll be the day,” Cartman laughed as he turned away from the freezer, ice pack in one hand and a popsicle in the other.

Stan caught the pack easily when it was tossed his way, ignoring their resident troublemaker in favor of getting his super best boyfriend’s leg elevated better. “This okay, baby?”

“Yeah, it-“ Kyle cut off with a wince. “Doesn’t hurt as bad as it did at first.”

“Still hurts, though?”

“I mean, it never really stopped hurting,” Kyle said with a shrug. “Not all the way.”

Stan had done his research after his partner first messed up his leg. What the basketball coach guessed was a sprain turned out to be a hyperextended knee and partial meniscus tear, straining the outside ligament and everything. Not an injury that required surgery, since Kyle was young and relatively healthy, but he wasn’t supposed to put any weight on it at all for a full month, was supposed to be taking anti inflammatories and painkillers. Kyle tried to downplay it, sick of being out of commission, but Stan maintained that it caused him more trouble than he admitted.

Kenny hopped up from where he’d been perched on the arm of the couch. “Where’s your drugs? I gotcha.”

“I don’t need-“

“Nightstand,” Stan interrupted. Kyle wasn’t about to weasel his way out of medication. Kenny bounded up the stairs as Kyle angrily unzipped his coat and threw it in the general direction of the jacket hooks.

“Dude, I don’t want the fucking painkillers.”

Cartman snorted from his position on the floor, where he’d claimed control of the remote and was looking for trashy reality tv. “You’ve been on crutches for weeks and you still can’t walk, you dumb bitch. Take the goddamn pills if you hurt. That’s like, common sense.”

“You wouldn’t know common sense if it bit you in the fat ass.”

As much as Stan hated to agree with Cartman, he did have a point. “Kyle, please don’t be difficult about this. We’re just trying to help.”

Kyle scowled and crossed his arms. “You can help by getting off my case. I swear, you guys are as bad as my mother.”

“No can do, firefox,” Kenny re entered the living room, holding the orange vial of painkillers aloft. “Consider us on your case like white on rice. This bottle should not still be this full.”

“Let me see that.” Stan confirmed that it was pretty obvious that Kyle had been slacking on the meds. “Dude, c’mon. Have you not been taking these?”

“I took them “as directed” or whatever the first week,” Kyle protested. “I don’t like how they make me all foggy and tired!”

Stan fought the urge to groan. “Baby, you’re literally in pain. Your leg’s gonna hurt if you don’t treat the symptoms.” He didn’t add that the fact that Kyle had been hurting and doing nothing about it had definitely played in to his irritability. He knelt down and took Kyle’s hand. “Will you just take one? For me? Your pain is my pain.”

Cartman mimed throwing up. “Jesus Christ, you fucking simp! What is this, a shitty fanfiction?!”

“SHUT UP, CARTMAN,” Kyle snapped. Then his eyes met Stan’s, and his anger dissipated some. “Damnit, Staniel. Don’t give me the face! You look like a sad puppy and- ugh, fucking fine, but if anyone draws dicks on my face while I’m taking a damn high ass nap, I’m kicking the ass of everyone in this room.”

A threat not to be taken lightly, even with Kyle’s current physical limitations. Small, injured, about to nod off from the pill he’d swallowed while he was talking, but vicious.

“No dicks, promise,” Kenny said with a hand over his heart.

“Yeah, we all know the only dick you want on your face is Stan’s-“ Cartman was cut off by a throw pillow flung in his direction. “Fine! Geez, I won’t fuck with you.”

“I’ll keep watch,” Stan offered.

Cartman rolled his eyes and went back to flipping through daytime television. “I hate your gay ass, I’m so seriously.”

———

There was only so much Real Housewives the boys could take before it got old. And Stan really didn’t give a shit what the Kardashians were up to. Even Cartman had gotten restless after a few hours, corralling Kenny out the back door to throw chunks of ice against the fence.

Kyle was still sleeping through all of it, though his sleep looked far from peaceful. Kyle didn’t usually sleep well in general, and lying in an uncomfortable position on the couch with his face tight even in sleep, he looked to be struggling. Nightmares, probably, made even weirder than normal by the drugs making him sleep harder than he usually did.

Stan didn’t have the heart to wake him up, instead just in his lookout post on the floor next to the couch. He switched the channel to National Geographic and turned the sound off, letting his head fall back next to his boyfriend’s.

He couldn’t have been asleep long, before being jolted awake by a thump and a muttered “god damnit”.

Adjusting to the dim light of the living room, Stan landed on Kyle, who had apparently walked into the doorframe in his post nap confusion. He was immediately up and darting his way.

“Dude, you’re supposed to be using your crutches! Where’re you going?”

Kyle grumbled and rubbed at his leg. “I’m running the Boston Marathon, what does it look like? I’m on a piss quest, Stanathan.”

Stan swung an arm around him for support, helping him hobble down the hall. “For fucks sake, Ky, you’re gonna hurt yourself walking around like this.”

“Didn’t think about it,” Kyle argued. “I told you the pills make me all groggy.”

They stopped at the bathroom. “Can you make it?”

Kyle hopped through and shut the door. “I’m not helpless.”

Stan leaned against the wall, trying not to laugh at the frustrated look he’d flashed. “You have a good nap, at least?”

“Had a dream I was in a wheat field.”

“A wheat field?”

“Yeah.” He heard the toilet flush and the faucet start up. “We were trying to invade a kingdom of giants with a marching band. And then I was in my car and all the tires exploded. Pedro Pascal was there.”

Steadying his boyfriend on his way back into the hall, Stan chuckled. “The Mandolorian slashed your tires?”

“Apparently.”

Heat was radiating from Kyle like a furnace. Not that he didn’t usually run warm, especially when he slept, but even Sheila had noticed earlier. Stan helped him down onto the couch and rested the back of his hand on Kyle’s face, checking for fever.

“Dude, do you feel okay? You look kinda pale, and you’re hot.”

Kyle rolled his eyes. “Jesus, not you too. I’m fine. I can’t be sick on top of everything else, you just worry too much.”

That wasn’t how it worked, but okay. Kenny and Cartman came barging in the kitchen door, shaking ice from their shoes in a haphazard way that a certain matriarch wouldn’t appreciate.

“I need some fucking hot chocolate!” Cartman declared, Kenny letting out a muffled agreement through his scarf before unwinding it.

“Guys,” Stan started, “have you been sick at all the past week? Like, fever, dizziness, anything?”

Kenny shrugged. “I had the sniffles a couple days ago, that’s it.”

“I don’t get sick,” Cartman insisted. “My immune system is superior. Oh, lame, you guys! Is Kahl infected with some disease now too? I mean, more than just his default.”

Kyle moaned dramatically. “Please cut it out. I’m tired, assholes.”

Stan ignored him, at least until he had a chance to check for certain. “Ken, will you get the thermometer? Under the kitchen sink. I think I might’ve given you guys that cold I had over the weekend.”

“You got over that in like, two days,” Kyle pointed out.

“That was me. This is you. And if you’ll recall, I almost cracked my head open in your bedroom,” Stan reminded him.

“Because you’re a dick who tried to ignore it.”

“And what are you doing right now?”

Kyle opened his mouth to make some remark, and Kenny took the opportunity to shove the thermometer under his tongue. Kyle glared but didn’t yank it out, probably hoping to prove them all wrong.

“Ha!” Cartman was at least a little amused reading the screen. “Of course you’re sick. What, can’t handle a little seasonal bug like the rest of us?”

Moving to lunge off the couch, Kyle swung, not missing this time, but falling to the floor nonetheless. Cartman wailed like he’d just been stabbed.

“Did- did you guys see that?! Kahl totally got me in the eye! Oh, god, I’m blind! I’m suing your crippled ass!”

“Knock it off, Fatboy, you’re fine,” Kenny said tiredly. “Kyley, I think we should get you up to bed and call your mom.”

Stan was inclined to agree, not just because Kyle was definitely running a temperature now, but also because he’d just fallen for the second time in the span of a few hours, and there was no way even Kyle could deny how much that had to hurt. He scooted the coffee table out of the way to help him up.

“Okay, use the good side, I’ve got you.”

Kyle had gotten pretty graceful at using the pistol squat method to get up without putting weight on his bad knee over the past few weeks. He’d always been deceptively strong, even like now when he was sick and drawn, and Stan was just kind of there just in case he faltered.

“Don’t call my mom,” he pleaded. “It’s just a little fever. I can probably sleep it off.”

Well, considering his ridiculous stubbornness, Kyle could probably argue that illness going around right out of his body. “You can try, dude, but Sheila’s gonna be pissed I didn’t tell her.”

“I’ll handle it,” Kyle mumbled, accepting his crutches and letting Kenny and Stan accompany him to the stairs. “Will you guys stay?”

Stan raised an eyebrow. “Even Cartman?”

“Pshh, like I wanna stick around for the jew to get pissed off and try to kill me again.”

The guys knew Cartman well enough to know that was just his way of saying he didn’t want to be the reason Kyle got carried away and hurt himself, but they didn’t point that out.

“Then fuck off, fatass. Go manipulate the FBI or whatever you get up to,” Kyle said with another eyeroll.

Cartman snorted. “Eh, it’s still pretty early. Maybe I’ll start a cult or something.” He grinned mischievously. “See you assholes.”

Kenny flipped on the hall light. “I wonder what it is that he actually does in his spare time.”

“Something stupid or illegal.” Kyle groaned as he was helped into bed. “Or both.”

That sounded about right. Stan settled under the blankets next to him, Kenny having procured the cold meds still in the drawer from Stan having been sick. Stan read the pack carefully before handing Kyle a few capsules. “Here, dude. It’s the daytime shit. No acetaminophen or any of the crap that’ll fuck with your other drugs.”

“Thanks.”

Kyles massive “Ass Pro Shops” tumbler, a Kenny McCormick creation that was forever stationed on Kyle’s nightstand with its blue silicone straw, washed down the medicine before Kyle lied back with a sigh. He was clearly still in pain, and now feverish to top it off. “Have I mentioned yet that I’m really fucking annoyed?”

Kenny snorted, casually shooting the mini basketball into the hoop mounted on the closet door. “Darlin’, you’ve made that pretty clear.”

Stan wrapped him up in his arms, carefully, like his boyfriend might attack like a wounded animal. And here we see an injured fox, in his burrow, directly after fighting off the raccoon. He has allowed the continued company of the bear and the opossum, who continue to aid in his recovery. The rabbit often accompanies this ragtag group, though she would likely be unwilling to leave school, fearing both the agitated fox’s anger and a potential to be grounded.

Laughing at his mental nature documentary comparison was probably not in his best interest, lest Kyle assume he was being made fun of, so Stan just kissed his boyfriend’s flushed cheek. “You gonna be able to fall asleep again?”

Kyle snuggled closer. “Mm, if you keep holding me like this.”

Stan knew both he and Kenny would have to leave his side eventually. Kenny had basketball practice and Stan had off season football conditioning. He could get out of classes today, sure, but coach wasn’t about to ease up on him, not with Stan set to play first string in the fall. If South Park had one thing (other than cattle) to be proud of, it was high school sports.

Still, he’d savor this moment, getting to take care of him with Kenny for backup, and he’d probably cave and stay if Kyle asked.

———

The alarm clock on the nightstand flashed that it was almost three when Sheila poked her head in to whisper (or her version of it, at least), “boys!”

Uncharacteristically, Stan was the first to wake, followed by Kenny, who had curled up at the foot of the bed like a pet, while Kyle only moaned and rolled over.

“Yes ma’am?” Stan mumbled, rubbing his eyes and disoriented from their nap.

The matriarch planted her hands on her hips, one auburn brow arched in concern. “Is everything alright? Eric already left?”

“Mhm. A while ago. He went because he was making Ky mad again and they were trying to fight and we all didn’t want him to hurt himself more. It was Cartman’s decision.” Stan didn’t know why he was defending the dickhole who liked to mess with his favorite person. Maybe because Cartman had recently shown a few redeeming qualities, plus Stan felt bad in general about giving the guys his cold. “Kyle, he didn’t want us to call you, but he’s running a bit of a fever. Or, he was a few hours ago. We got some medicine in him, so hopefully it’s down.”

“WHAT WHAT WHAT?!”

Kyle sat up quickly, squeaking a little in his confusion. “Ma, what’s going on? Why are you freaking out?”

She rushed over, immediately all over her son. “Oh, I knew it! I knew you were warm this morning! Call it a motha’s intuition, but I knew you’d caught what’s going around that school of yours!”

“He’s okay, Mrs. B,” Kenny cut in. “Stanny and I both got over it quick, and Cartman definitely had it but didn’t even complain, and you know how he is.”

Sheila sighed, hands still on the face of an absolutely peeved Kyle. “Oh, I suppose. I just, I worry! About all of you! And my poor baby is already hurt, I can’t imagine how miserable it must be-“

“Ma, please. I’m okay. Just let me go back to sleep.”

Turning to the other two, who had gotten up and were standing attentively like seven year olds in trouble, she offered a motherly smile. “Why don’t the two of you go down and make yourselves a snack?” She suggested. “You have to leave for your sports soon, right? Can’t go on an empty stomach!”

Kenny opened his mouth to protest, but Stan knew how Sheila’s mind operated. She wasn’t going to take no for an answer, especially while she had already blustered into full caretaking mode at the mention of her child under the weather. She’d do that for all five of them, yeah, but as much as Kyle would kick his ass if he said it, Kyle had always been more prone to physical problems than the rest.

“Will do. Ken, sandwiches real quick and we head to the school?”

“Works for me, brother. Thank you, Mrs B.”

Sheila smiled tensely, trying to force feed Kyle the lukewarm water at his bedside. Stan reached around her to squeeze his hand. “Okay, dude?”

“I’m okay. Little plague and a fucked up leg can’t take me out.”

“Kyle, language!”

Stan had to laugh. “We left the thermometer downstairs,” he offered. “If you want to check again. We’ll be outa here in a sec.” He kissed the back of Kyle’s hand, noticing how glassy his eyes were, all the brighter in their fever flush. “Can I come check on you after?” He was asking both Kyle and his mother.

They answered in unison, which made Kenny laugh. “Aight, loverboy, let’s feed us so we don’t die during suicides.”

The irony wasn’t lost on either of them when they made it down the stairs into the kitchen. “Dude, I really hate the idea of leaving him alone.”

Kenny retrieved sandwich supplies eagerly from the fridge and cabinets. They all knew where everything was kept in each other’s houses.

“He’s not alone. Got his mama, and you know she’s leaping at the chance. Where do ya think Ky gets it?”

True. Both Kyle and Sheila shared that overbearing motherly quality. They thrived on caring for people.

Problem was, Kyle was a godawful patient, and Stan liked to coddle him in spite of the protests.

“Make me a pb&j, will you?” He asked Kenny. “I’m gonna heat up some soup for Ky. He hasn’t eaten since breakfast, if he did have that.”

“He’s gonna get annoyed,” Kenny pointed out.

That was true, but still. “Dude, my boyfriend is hurt, sick, stubborn as fuck, and diabetic. I’m not letting his levels get messed up.”

Kenny laughed. “Just marry him already. You’d make a great overprotective husband.”

“Sick, man, we’re kids!”

“That has nothing to do with what I just said. I’m talkin’ future shit.”

Stan dumped a can of chicken noodle into the pot he’s grabbed. “You deadass said “already”. We’re sixteen and fifteen.”

“You’re still gonna be a good husband one day.” Kenny was building sandwiches, didn’t look up. “We call him a mom, but you’re absolutely the type of dad to be waiting on the porch with a shotgun if your daughter brings home a date. Not that your pacifistic ass would use it.”

That was true, guns were not his favorite. “Ken, knock it off.” He checked on the time. “Hey, drink some water. We should head out as soon as we eat.”

Canned soup was easy and quick enough to heat up, and Stan had it poured into a bowl with a few crackers on the side by the time Kenny had gotten sandwiches and drinks set up on the bar. “Gonna take this up to Ky, be right back.”

“Leaning into that knight in shining armor complex pretty hard today, huh?”

Stan flipped him off over his shoulder.

In Kyle’s room, Shiela was humming at a low volume, fussing with the covers and the washcloth she’d laid on his forehead. Kyle saw him first.

“Dudeeee,” he complained. “Tell Ma I’m okay and she doesn’t need to smother me.”

Laughing and setting the soup on the table, Stan leaned over to run his fingers through Kyle’s hair. “Sorry, but I’m on her side, dude.” He gave Sheila a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you, I just, he was already getting pretty good rest and I didn’t want to rile him up-“

“Oh, believe me,” she said pointedly. “I know he’d have only worked himself up.”

“I’m right here!”

“See what I mean?” Sheila put on her all business face. “Bubbeh, Stanley and Kenny have to leave soon for practice.”

Kyle looked positively betrayed. “Dude, you’re actually leaving me?”

“You need more rest, baby. I can maybe come back and visit after conditioning?” Yeah, right. More than likely, his mom would veto any more company until Kyle was over the fever. “You need to eat and keep taking it easy.”

“Yes, sir,” Kyle grumbled sarcastically.

Stan suppressed another laugh and kissed the back of his hand again before turning to Sheila. “We’ll be out the door in a few minutes. I’ll ask before coming after.”

She nodded. “I think that would be best. Thank you for helping out today, Stan.”

“Definitely, dude.” Then he froze. He called his own mother dude, but he had never called Kyle’s mom that. Thankfully, she smiled fondly.

“You boys just put your dishes in the sink when you’re done. Have a good practice.”

Stan grinned and kissed Kyle again before heading back down. Kenny was halfway through his sandwich when he plopped down and snorted.

“Man, I totally just called Ky’s mother “dude”,” he commented.

Kenny giggled. “Only you, brother. Gotta tell ya, I think this basketball team thing? This is probably a one time deal.”

“You’re not planning to play next year?”

“It’s just, well, it was only fun with Kyle, and he’s out for a hot minute. Plus I could be spending my free time workin’. Lot to think about, ya know? And it’s not like you and football. I just wanted to try it out.”

Stan understood. He’d cycled through plenty of hobbies himself. “Why not just go ahead and quit?”

Kenny shook his head. “Season’s almost over, anyway. Gotta finish it out. So, for now…” he saluted with his sandwich. “Fuck it. We ball.”

[toiletwipes]

simpbur's college roommate

tw: obsession, possessiveness? not really tbh, simpbur is caught, overstim, vibrator, afab body, vaginal penetration, pretty boy is thrown around and so is good boy, praise, maybe a tiny bit degrading, im just a little bit scared to look through this to check for anything else. its not bad but im just scared i'll delete this if i dont post it now.

1.7k words, so not that long but I promised you guys content so here it is!

-----

it was the smaller things, really.

you wouldn’t notice them, if you weren’t looking for them, type of deal. a shirt that fits you just a little bit too snug so it sits in the back of your closet, or did. an old polaroid with an older friend, faces smiling into the flash of light, it had sat in the bottom of your old memory box, said box gone untouched by you for months. an oversized, raggedy hoodie that you had ditched for a newer, softer coat.

you didn’t want to believe it but at the moment you had bigger fish to fry with schoolwork.

the coat from before sat in your lap at the moment, you parked yourself in the library as you studied with a close friend for some government essay, and you were just nearly finished with the second to last page, when your friend spoke up.

she taps on your arm, pulling out your earbud, “hey, your roommate is will, er, wilbur, right?” you stopped in the middle of a word, lifting your head to meet her eyesight.

“yeah, why? he being creepy or something?” you ask, hoping for a no, he wasn’t bad, but you knew that if anybody else had been his roommate, he would've found himself in trouble during the first week alone.

“no, actually, it’s just- it’s just that, um, are you guys dating?” you snorted, really? you and him? dating?

“he’s cute, but no, why d’ya ask?” you laugh to yourself as you look into your notes as you start typing again.

“well, he’s just been wearing your hoodie, like a lot.” you still, eyebrows furrowing. your hoodie?

“how do you know it's my hoodie?” you look her in her eyes, folding your arms together as you lean back.

“i know for sure its your hoodie because it has that one bleach stain on the front and on the shoulder from when you said you could wear a hoodie and bleach your hair, and the time that you spilt bleach directly onto your hoodie and panicked for five minutes before doing something about it. i know it's yours so why is he wearing it?” your mind is blank as you stuff your things back into your backpack, her sputtering with questions and your lack of answers leaving much to be desired.

but as you exit the building, you shrug your coat as it starts to pour and the dark sky flashes for a moment. you rush in your walking to get to the dorms as soon as possible. just your luck that your dorm is on the other side of the campus. its still about five minutes before you bang on your dorm room. the music blasting on the other side silences as your roommate opens the door, his mouth drops into a round circle and you stare at his chest as you push past him.

“where the hell have you been? it’s barely been pouring!” he sounds off like a rattled hen but you head straight to your room, dumping your backpack and coat on your bed. without an answer, he follows you but any questions he has dries in his mouth as he watches you dig in your closet. pulling a ratty tee shirt and shorts you shrug your soaked shirt over your head.

will has to force himself out of the room but it's not a second later when you come out, hair wet and skin damp when you grab onto his head of hair and pull as you drag him to his room.

throwing him onto the bed, you barely glanced at his face, seeing it already being covered in tears, hands grasping for yours as it leaves him.

you glance around his room before you see the one clean area, his nightstand and dig through that. you found not only items you knew were missing but more, underwear you thought you'd thrown away, a vibrator that you'd thought had gotten stolen by a petty friend, not an obsessive roommate.

and then throwing his closet open, you saw it balled up and thrown in the corner, your hoodie.

taking it out, you push it into will's chest. "dude, literally, what the fuck?" you go to shout at him more but he moves onto his knees, tears dripping and pouring down his cheeks, begging for you to not leave.

"i know i'm a creep, a disgusting one at that, but please don't- please don't leave me, no one's been this nice and stayed with me for this long," he begs and continues to beg as you stand at the foot of his bed, watching as he took a hold of your forearms, rubbing circles into them.

you clasp a hand over his mouth as you coo, shushing him and smoothing over his hair with your other hand.

"my dirty, little stalker doesn't want me to go, but who said i was going to let you leave?" you then pull back on his hair, relishing in the guttural moan that is ripped from his throat, attaching your lips to his neck and climbing into lap, grinding down into the growing bulge in his sweats.

he moans out your name, hands finding purchase wherever he can, gripping your hip and your shoulder, trying to thrust up and meet your hips but you move your hands to hold his hips down.

"no, no, no, good boys take what they're given, that much you've proven, will," you murmur in his ear, slowing the rolls in your hips and watching him writhe beneath you.

"be a good boy for me, huh? are you my pretty boy?" he sobs out a yes as you grind down hard on his cock, the praise going straight to his dick as you mouth bruises into his neck. sucking particularly hard his hands come and circle around your waist, his head hanging onto your shoulder.

"please, please let me-"

"oh no, baby, tonight, it's all about you," you pause, standing up and hearing that beautiful whine pulled from his throat, "your punishment for being a dirty, little whore who wanted all my things for yourself, all of me without me." he shook his head, eyes barely opening as he reaches for you, but you've gone to his nightstand and pulled out the vibrator, turning it on and off and finding it surprisingly still working. well, not that surprising.

"now, you're gonna be a good boy and let me take care of you, or you can be alone," he reaches for you, begging you not to leave him and you can't say you weren't that affected.

something about this tall, greasy simp of a man, who stole your things and wears your old hoodie, begging for you not to go, it just settled nicely in the bottom of your stomach.

you weren't denying you were absolutely soaked by now, shoving your shorts off.

"please, i'll- your good boy, be so good for you-" he cuts himself off as you climb back to straddle his lap, this time rolling your hips once before you turn your vibrator on.

"good, so good for me," you hum as you place the vibrator between your panty-clad folds and his sweatpants-covered-cock. the vibrations sent you to a different plane as you grind into him, listening to the way he cried and the way his legs trembled.

you could tell the next moment, he was about to cum and well, you can't have that, not so soon. "ah, ah, ah," you breathe out, taking the vibe away as you lean back and away from his dick.

he lurched forward and his legs shake again as he's denied an orgasm, he cries out and into your neck.

"is my baby ready for ten more of these?" you ask him and his eyes snap wide open, meeting yours and when a moment passes and you press the vibe back against his dick, he whines.

you weren't kidding about before, it's been about an hour, you think, and he's buried his face in a pillow, crying from the over-stimulation and from not cumming.

you, yourself, have occupied your time with stretching yourself out, three fingers buried deep into your pussy and the sounds coming from it has will peeking out from the pillow, eyes sparkling with that crying glow.

taking your fingers out, and sticking them into his mouth, you move yourself over his lap, taking his cock in your hand as you rub it in between your folds. moaning, you move away as his hips jerk upwards, him biting and crying into his fist.

"my pretty baby, doing so well for me, gonna let me make you feel good? you gonna let me make you cum?" will nods his head and lets out the loudest moan you heard that day when you sink down on his cock.

buried to the hilt, he twitches inside you, and he's begging to cum, "'m gonna, 'm gonna cum, please, plea- need to, i need to cum in you," he begs and who are you to deny your pretty boy that?

"cum for me baby," you say, out of breath as you bounce on his cock, reveling in the slick sounds coming from between y'all. he does cum, hips thrusting upwards to bury himself in you, and you let him. but when you know he's all spent, you start to bounce on his cock, him crying from the over-sensitivity.

"just- just let me cum," you breathe out, balancing yourself with his shoulder and one hand rubbing circles into your clit, moans coming from your mouth as sobs leaves will's.

"oh- oh fuck, fuck, fuck!" you cry out, squeezing around will and falling on top of his chest.

breathing together, you let yourself have this moment before you get up and moves towards the bathroom. you hear him calling out for you as you grab a damp towel, some water, and a dry towel.

"did you think i was going to leave you, baby?" you ask, mostly not expecting an answer but turning to him as you run the damp cloth over his face and neck, he bit his lip.

"a little bit, yeah."

"well, don't think about that again, because as much as you're weird and steal my shit, you're still important to me," you tell me, "you're my pretty boy and you're going to stay that way."

when you finished cleaning him up and then cleaned yourself, you take the spot next to him and pull the covers over you two.

he leans into your side, pulling you into him, trying to get closer than close.

"you promise?"

you smile to yourself, thinking about having him all to yourself, "i promise."

[get-shiggy-with-it]

Book Drop Boy (Twice x Reader)

✧ pairing: library student worker!Twice x afab!student!Reader

✧ word count: 9.9k

✧ ao3 mirror

✧ warnings: college au/no quirks, maladaptive daydreaming (twice), twice is chaotic af, commits library related crimes, use of the term sweetheart a few times, smut, vaginal fingering/sex, doggy style, afab terms, no pronouns for reader, gratuitous swearing this is potentially the softest thing I've ever written, like she's pretty tame idk what Twice does to me

✧ summary: In which Twice learns that sometimes dreams do come true, except those dreams are just the maladaptive fantasies of a broke library receptionist and, while sexy, also involve more fraud than he expected.

✧ a/n: Hey y'all, this is set in the same universe as my shiggy college piece, but you don't need to have read that. There are some fun little easter eggs though if you have tho. This is like the most tame thing I've ever written and it's way longer than it was meant to be but oh well. Anyway, Twice deserves some love. Enjoy <3

Logically, Jin was aware you probably had no idea who the fuck he was.

But that really didn’t have any effect on the wildly intricate fantasy life he had created for the two of you during his long shifts behind the library reception desk. That, in fact, was the only reason he hadn’t up and quit just to save himself the embarrassment of another loud outburst in the middle of the most silent place on campus.

What was truly more shocking was the fact that none of those said outburst had gotten his ass kicked straight out the door.

But he held out.

If only for you.

Late nights or lazy afternoons you were always in the campus library—studying he assumed or…

'Studying,' because a lot of the time he noticed you’d show up with a drink from the cafe a few blocks down, set out a line of colored pens and not touch a single one of them for hours, content to stare blankly at the chipped desktop. And even that Jin was more than happy to watch.

He did a lot of watching.

Mostly because he wasn’t permitted to leave the desk unattended unless there were piling up returned books which needed to be replaced quickly.

So instead, he pretended to be busy scrolling through something on his old as hell monitor—which was conveniently set up directly across from the comfy chair/desk combo you always managed to grab—and he indulged in day dreams where you’d bring him a coffee from the cafe when you came in and set it on his desk, maybe kiss him on the cheek, maybe loiter by his workstation and play with his hair and—

Yeah.

It was a lot.

But you were always in that chair, always working or pretending to work and you never seemed to notice the uninterrupted hours of staring Jin did, so what was the harm?

If you never knew, you’d never get creeped out—cause it was creepy, he knew that, oh fuckin' boy did he know it was real goddamn weird.

He just couldn’t seem to give it up. Especially when the conditions presented perfectly for some good uninterrupted, totally not stalker-y at all, fantasizing.

Sometimes he thought you might have some mundane superpower that let you always snatch that perfect seat right across from his computer, and made it so the library was just cool enough that he’d get to watch you shrug on that cute extra sweatshirt you always brought. So he could catch a glimpse of some skin—in a totally normal and not invasive way—when your arms went over your head. So he could imagine it was his ratty old sweaters you were wearing just so you could smell him on you and god he really wanted to get close enough to smell you—was that too weird? No. Yes? No.

Not at all.

But the best part, the part that really convinced him on those awful days when he really just could not be bothered to drag himself out of bed and walk the couple blocks to campus just to sit in awful silence alone, in his head alone with the fucking thoughts that made him want to rip his hair out—

What made it worth it was those times every few weeks when your classes would get new assigned readings. Because then you’d have to check out new textbooks, since you were one of those geniuses that had figured out the library kept a ton of those books in stock. Of course you were, cause you were fucking perfect.

And when you had to check out new books, you had to come to reception.

Jin got to watch as your lovely figure moved through the stacks like you were ballroom dancing along the halls of faded, sea-green shelves, almost floating over the linoleum trying to find just the right volume in the right addition before anyone else beat you to it.

It was one of the most gorgeous things he’d ever seen.

Spinner would call him a fucking simp if he ever dared to uttered any of that out loud, but it didn’t matter.

If it was you, he’d simp for fucking life.

And then, you’d walk that fucking glorious ass over to his desk and plop the books down, smiling—cause you were polite like that, so fucking perfect he couldn’t hardly believe it sometimes—and asking how his day was while he checked you out in every sense of the phrase.

In a completely platonic and not freaky way.

So Jin kept coming to work, to that god awful job he really hated and which hated him just as vehemently. He clocked in every day and waited patiently like a fucking puppy counting the hours till its workaholic owner arrived home, ears perking up when you walked through the door and flashed your ID to the attendant.

If only for that.

He’d put up with his boss’ complaints and the weird stares he got when the thoughts just wouldn’t stay in his head anymore and he had to start talking to himself to fill the silence.

If only for that.

Those few hours when he could lose himself in the fake inner life where you were waiting for him when his shift let out, waiting to gather him, tired and understimulated, into your arms. Where you’d sneak into the back room with him just to chat and lace your fingers with his and maybe sit that fucking wonderful ass up on the tables so he could stand in between your thighs and you’d pull him down to—

Yeah.

That was enough.

***

It wasn’t until Tuesday when he had to come in again that week, and he already knew it was gonna suck balls.

Friday he’d gotten another round of complaints from some stuck up fucking business students—it was always the fucking business majors with those silver spoons so far up their asses—snitching to his boss that he’s been ‘disruptive’ and ‘disturbing’ during his last shift.

“Not my fucking fault,” he muttered under his breath, kicking a rock along the side walk he’d picked up two blocks before. “Yes it is. No it’s not!”

Jin groaned and tugged at his hair, wishing he’d brought a Tylenol or something to curb the headache that was already sticking it’s ugly ass claws into his temples. He really, really heavily contemplated just ditching, calling in sick or some shit. Technically he was a student worker, so they had to work with his DRS accommodation and he was actually having a bad fucking time.

But one of his friends had already texted to ask if he’d try and reserve them that sweet ass study room on the third floor and Jin wasn’t really looking to disappoint anyone else this week. Besides, it was fun to abuse his minuscule power. Fun to go corrupt for once. Fight the system and all that.

He liked to think you’d be proud of him for it, based on the kinds of texts you checked out at least.

So, he dragged his sad ass back to the looming library looking far too much like a prison than was necessary and clocked in. Actually, the first thing he did was check the chair—your chair and nobody else’s chair, he might actually make a fucking scene if somebody ever did steal it—and his face visibly fell when you were not occupying it.

It was a bit early, Jin supposed as he paused briefly when he noticed the can of Monster and rando vending machine chips sitting next to it by the reception computer. The sticky note slapped to the top read 'For your troubles' in familiar handwriting and that pulled a bit of a smile from him as he quickly rearranged the scheduling of study room sign ups so the fancy third floor room would be free for the rest of the night.

Then Jin sat, staring at the study room schedules for a moment, feeling his eyes softly glaze over until a hand slapped down on the raised lip of the reception desk.

“Hey bro,” Spinner greeted him with a wild smile and a flurry of bright pink hair.

Jin had to blink a few extra times to get his vision to clear. When it did he saw, horrifyingly, that he’d been staring at the fucking blank screen for two hours without moving.

Why was it that his head was either deadly quiet, devoid of even a single errant thought or so loud as fucking shit at all times that he couldn’t physically keep the thoughts in?

“Hey, dude, what’s up?” Jin asked, running a hand through his unruly hair.

“Aren’t you supposed to like shush me or something?”

Spinner chuckled a bit at his own god awful joke and Jin couldn’t find it in himself to be annoyed, too glad for the company.

“I mean,” he shrugged, popping the can of Monster and ignoring the dirty looks he got for the sound. “I would if I was, uh, good at my job.”

“Which I’ve heard you definitely are not,” Spinner wrapped his fingers over the lip of the desk and leaned back on his heels, swaying side to side idly.

“You’re just figuring that out now?”

Jin didn’t bother watching while Spinner nearly tripped over himself fidgeting as he spun to stand at the little gate that corralled Jin inside like livestock. He was too busy glancing over to check you hadn’t slipped in while his brain had taken a trip to the astral plane without him.

“No, I been knew, but my sources tell me you’ve gone off the rails my friend,” long legs stepped over the wooden partition until the only friend he had who was quite possibly more annoying than Jin himself was sat on the counter next to his computer. “Finally been radicalized have you?”

Jin huffed and sipped his Monster, “Guess it fuckin’ took me long enough.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Spinner was messing about with the stacks of multicolored sticky notes littered across the desk before glancing up to wink at Jin. “So what can I get you to do for me in exchange for free food?”

“Now I really am gonna fucking shush you,” Jin smashed his finger against Spinners grin only to get a hand covered in spit for his trouble.

“Right, right,” Spinner held his hands up in defeat, “can’t have you cheating on your sweetheart.”

“Not my—yes I’m in a committed fictional relationship thank you very much—ugh!”

Jin could feel the heads shooting up from laptop screens and textbooks to stick daggers in his back with their angry stares. Spinner at least had the good sense to look a little fucking guilty for egging him on.

“Sorry bro, I had to shoot my shot ya know?” a hand disappeared into the mop of bubblegum locks in apology.

“It’s fine…” Jin trailed off, mumbling and blushing more than a little profusely as he turned to check the book drop box. “Not like I’m ever gonna fuckin’ shoot mine anyway.”

“Oh we are not gonna have that kinda of shit discussion,” Spinner’s hand shot out and grabbed him firmly by the shoulders, spinning Jin in his chair. “On god bro, we’re gonna get you a date one of these days.”

Jin didn’t dignify that kind of lie with a response.

Spinner once again, had the good sense to not push the envelope any farther.

“And in the meantime, you can come to the League meeting tonight!”

“Your gaming club thing?”

“Yeah, it’s Smash night and we need to fill a space sooooo…”

Jin knew Spinner and his roommate—the same friend who he’d gone study room rogue for—had started a gaming club their freshman year. Spinner had been trying to strong arm him into attending ever since. To, as he put it, ‘socialize,’ and ‘make new friends.’ All things which Jin was patently horrible at and avoided like the plague.

Needless to say, he’d refused every time.

It wasn’t just the whole being alone with like two people he kinda knew in a room full of strangers. Games themselves were just a lot for him. The flashing colors and the loud noises made his head—which was already so fucking full all the time and he really needed to keep any extra scrap of space for extra random facts he picked up about you and your future married life together—get a bit misaligned.

They just weren’t his jam most of the time.

“I’m good, thanks for the offer though,” Jin twisted out of Spinner’s grasp and craned his head to check your seat again.

Still empty.

He sighed.

Spinner continued to ramble and Jin continued to only half listen. It wasn’t as pleasant to day dream when you weren’t there for the added visual aesthetic. And he was trying to not be a dick and ignore the one friend he had managed to keep around over the years. But it was hard when his mind had a mind of its own.

Wow.

Meta.

“Jin?”

The voice—deep and dark in such a dramatically ominous way it might have been funny if it didn’t belong to his permanently disgruntled supervisor—interrupted his already derailing train of thought.

“Oh, uh, hello sir,” Jin stuttered, turning to find Kurogiri leaning against the reception desk with one arm, turning only slightly to accommodate Spinner’s form bolting over the gate and out the library doors.

He did manage to throw a fading, “See ya later, bro” over his shoulder before he disappeared around the corner.

Yeah thanks for the warning, bro.

“Aren’t you supposed to be reshelving the books from the drop box?” Kurogiri sighed, perpetually disappointed in a way that had Jin’s face burning and shame bubbling up in his throat.

He hated this job. He was objectively terrible at it, and so usually he wouldn’t give that much of a shit at not doing it well. Kurogiri just had some type of vibe—like daddy but not in the sexy way Spinner always joked about—that made it really, really upsetting to let him down.

Father figure? Yeah that's what it was called.

“Right, yeah um, sorry,” Jin nodded quickly and leapt from his chair, only mildly bruising his knee on the desk as he reached to empty the book drop.

Another incorporeal sigh was the only acknowledgement he received as he loaded the cart with wheels louder than Jin on a particularly bad day and rolled the pile of books back to the stacks. He paused once more, just before the sea green shelving units swallowed him up, to sneak another futile peak at your chair. But it still sat empty—empty and lonely with no you and cold without your body pressed against the worn upholstery.

Jin felt a chill too, a slow tingling thing that worked its way up from the base of his spine. It drove him deeper into the walls of books, away from the empty spaces.

It was harder to look.

Harder to be reminded of what he did not have.

Of what he’d never have cause he was too much of a goddamn pussy to ever just fucking talk to you—

But then what if he did? What if he did talk to you? What would happen then?

Those were the types of questions he tried to avoid when crafting your intricate, fictional lives together. Precisely because they were the easiest to answer.

You’d realize within the first five minutes or so of conversation—if Jin could even make it that far without embarrassing himself—that he was just a generic brand weirdo that all your pretty, normal, aesthetically pleasing friends would warn you to stay away from and because you were also pretty and normal and not a fucking idiot, you’d have the common sense to listen.

He’d lose you in the blink of an eye.

Your chair would sit cold and empty forever and the imaginary garden he’d been planting for you to come imaginarily home too would wilt and die like all the other happy thoughts in his head.

It was quite the conundrum and one Jin was not keen to solve soon.

Not that things ever really went his way. Cause problems could only be avoided for so long before all that time spent ignoring them came back to bite him full on the ass.

Which, apparently, came this time in the form of what had to be quiet, muffled sobbing drifting in between the shelves from the back hallway.

It was dark here in this section of the building—free of most windows so as not to cause any sunning damage to the books—and Jin had seen more than enough horror movies to know that it was a horrendous idea to follow the ominous crying sounds coming from the bowls of this old as fuck building. But even as he made up his mind to ignore it, the hand currently working one of the returns back into its proper place dropped the book to his cart as his feet slowly turned to face the corridor.

He looked around skeptically for a second, not entirely certain his poor brain hadn’t simply malfunctioned again, as it was wont to do, and fabricated the sound entirely. But as he peaked out from between the stacks, and down the dimly lit hall, he heard it again.

Echoey and soft in the wide, empty space it—was definitely coming from the hall and it was definitely a person.

Jin caught himself moving without ever meaning too, the books laying forgotten as he crept towards the source of the noise and paused just before leaving the stacks entirely. This hall was full of small alcoves built into the centuries old walls and led to the lesser used storage portions of the library that only the janitorial staff and the university librarians ever entered. He really didn’t want to stumble across someone from the special collections department bawling over a damaged or lost manuscript.

But his wayward feet pushed him forward, too sympathetic for his own good. He found himself shuffling down the abandoned hall, peering into each small dip in the walls to find the source of his distraction.

And when he did, Jin was—for once in his life—thankful for his lack of self-preservation instincts.

And cursed his blatant lack in interpersonal skills.

Because it was you.

You curled with your knees to your chest and your head in your hands, shoulders shaking, as you cried into your palms.

The universe had handed him maybe the only golden opportunity he would ever get on right on a platter.

But Jin didn’t have a fucking clue what do with it.

And there certainly wasn’t much time to formulate a game plan as his nervous breathing and sudden intake of breath upon discovering his imaginary lover sniffling right in front of him, had certainly alerted you to his presence.

Your head shot up in an instant, knocking dully against the stone wall with a thud.

“Shit,” you cursed and hands flying up to cover the area as Jin jumped on the spot at your outburst.

“Are you okay?” he asked lamely as you glanced over at him, eyes red and wet and so fucking sad oh fucking god, widening as you realized you’d been caught.

“Huh? Ye—oh uh, yes,” your words came out jumbled, legs unfolding quickly to push yourself off the bench and hands wiping furiously at your eyes. “I’m fine, sorry.”

“You sure about that?”

Jin cringed visibly and frowned at the way you deflated under his stare. God the first fucking time he actually talks to you and he already made an ass of himself.

Spinner’s roommate was such a liar, it really fucking sucked to be right sometimes.

“I mean,” you crumpled back down onto the ledge and Jin took a careful step closer, “no, but yes. Like I’m definitely having a breakdown in the back of the fucking library but I don’t wanna, uh, bother you with that. So, yeah I’m good.”

“You can bother me,” he replied way too fucking quickly.

But he couldn’t really be embarrassed about it. Your voice was just so captivating, and you weren’t talking to him in that raised pitch anymore like you usually did—the way everyone does when they’re trying to be surface level and polite. No this was your voice how you sounded when you were relaxing with your friends or making breakfast in the morning or talking to yourself in the shower (he liked to think you did that, or sang maybe as you worked the soap into your skin, one of the two but he always imagined you filled silences with how fucking pretty you were).

“No, really. That would be weird, right?”

Jin grimaced as you fixed him with a watery yet suspicious stare.

Yeah it was weird.

Everything he did concerning you was weird, objectively. He was definitely being over-familiar and too eager, especially considering you didn’t fucking know him.

But he knew you.

Jin felt like he’d known you for all months he’d spent pretending to be by your side.

And you were crying and he had to do something.

“I mean, yeah I guess,” he mumbled, taking a risk and plopped down on the opposite end of the alcove and resting his head on the wall. “But not any weirder than having a breakdown in the employees only section of the library building on a Tuesday.”

You kept staring blankly for a few moments before the most miraculous thing happened.

Jin had to physically stop his jaw from hitting the floor when the quiet giggle bubbled up from your chest and spilled out into the hall, warm enough to melt even the freezing linoleum floor.

“Yeah, you’ve got a point,” your voice cracked a bit as a few more tears slid like pearls down your cheeks.

“My name’s Jin,” he said, shocked stupid both by your laugh and the apparent success of his comforting methods.

“Oh, hi, well I guess I don’t have to call you book drop boy anymore,” you rubbed at your face again and tucked your legs back into your chest, though it looked a bit more relaxed this time.

Not so trying-desperately-to-fade-out-of-existence.

“You called me that?” Jin asked, brain still functioning at half capacity, only shocked at the fact that he existed as a concept in your head enough to have a name and realizing a bit too late how accusatory he must have sounded. “Shit, I mean it’s totally fine I just didn’t think you, uh, well I mean, like, knew about me I guess?”

You finally smiled and his brain power cut out another fourth at being personally graced by the expression this close up.

“Yeah, you always check me out—fuck sorry not that you check me out, just you scan my books and I just called you ‘book drop boy’ in my head cause I never got a chance to ask for your name but I have it now so that’s cool….”

Your head dropped back down to your knees as you groaned and Jin suddenly felt a lot less nervous than he had a few seconds ago.

You were weird too.

For so long you’d existed on this pedestal thousands of feet in the air, and now you were stepping down from the heavens and onto earth. Not in a bad way! Just, Jin had never really stopped to think that you might be a person too.

Well.

No, he knew you were a person, just he never thought you might get flustered and ramble and be nervous in front of him.

Cause he was a fucking train wreck—the bar was so goddamn low.

It was almost as comforting as your smile.

“Oh, yeah sorry I’m not the best at customer service if you couldn’t tell,” he sighed and ran a hand through his wild hair.

You looked back up with a wry grin, “I don’t know, I’d say you’re going above and beyond right now.”

And you were funny.

He was gonna fucking combust.

“Ha, yeah, I try,” he trailed off for a moment before glancing back at your curled in your corner, fuck he could just imagine sitting behind you, your head on his chest while you—”So uh, did you wanna talk about it or…?”

“Uh, yeah,” you picked idly at the grouting of the stone and mumbled, “I guess it’s not so weird if we’re on a first-name basis.

And that was how Jin discovered that you’d been hiding in the back of the library bawling your eyes out for hours—since even before his shift started. Apparently you’d gotten here extra early, even skipped a class, to snag some super specific required text for your final thesis and right before you got to the shelf some jackass swooped in, effectively hit and running with the only copy of that book on campus.

The book in questions was one of the newer additions that had special added footnotes you needed for your paper and was a whopping 500 fucking dollars to rent from every other place online. You couldn’t afford it, and honestly what fucking student could? But you needed it to complete the paper or you’d fail and Jin very much understood the need for a good breakdown after a catastrophe like that.

“Damn, that’s uh, fucking awful,” he frowned on your behalf as your head hit the wall a second time in frustration.

“Yeah so, I’m like royally fucked either way. Now I just gotta decide which hole I’m taking it in I guess,” you groaned.

Jin’s eyebrows raised at your choice of words but they were apt, he supposed. People really do get comfortable with each other pretty quick when bonding over shared institutional rage.

“Well,” he began, wringing his hands nervously at what he was about to suggest. “You might be in luck cause I’ve recently decided to abuse my library powers for good and I maybe, possibly, could try and see if there’s some strings I can pull?”

You perked up a bit, looking at him incredulously.

Jin felt comfortably full under your stare.

“Seriously?”

The word was soft and it bounced off the walls just as much as it did the inside of his skull.

Swapping study rooms to help a friend out was one thing. But falsifying checkout dates for someone he barely knew—had essentially married in his maladaptive fantasies—could get him fired.

He hated this job but he needed it.

Were you worth the risk?

Of course, he found himself thinking without hesitation.

You were everything.

“Yeah, sure,” he nodded, any lingering uncertainty washing away at the way you looked at him through your lashes. “I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t mean it.”

“Are you always this nice?”

Jin didn’t answer right away. He was too caught up in how you’d leaned forward on your hands across the bench, peering like he was some exotic animal or a stray cat in the parking lot—all soft wonderment with fingers curling like they ached to grab hold and rescue him from this parchment scented monotony.

“Not always…”

“Should I feel special then?”

If his face wasn’t red before, it was now. Red and blistering under the summer campfire heat that radiated off you—woodsy and warm and so painfully familiar like an old friend’s hand.

“...I guess you—fucking definitely, ” he quite nearly shouted the last bit, startled by his own volume and already mortified at the outburst but then you chuckled again from beside him.

He turned to see you standing and offering a hand which he gladly too if only to feel the weight of your palm against his.

“Well, you’ll have to let me pay you back then.”

“Oh, no you don’t actually—”

You held a hand up and the words turned to ash on his tongue in an instant, mouth glued shut by your gesture.

“Coffee on me or something, there’s a nice cafe a few blocks from here,” you dropped your hand and your eyes were clear now, no sign of the previous afternoon sobbing alone in the hallway. Jin felt a surge in his chest knowing he was the one who did that. “You gotta pass off the contraband anyway, and I don’t think it would be that great of an idea to do it here.”

God you were fucking perfect.

“Can’t argue with that.”

***

Jin was sweating profusely as he snuck past the library attendant, totally inconspicuous and not not all looking like he was doing a single thing wrong in the slightest.

Yeah they definitely didn’t suspect a thing.

The process of fraud was actually a lot less complicated of an undertaking that Jin had expected. All he had to do was search up the book, find the student that had stolen the success of his sweetheart’s educational career and flag his account. They’d get an automated message about the flag, instructing them to return any borrowed items or they’d be forced to pay fines while the account was examined.

Technically he needed administrator credentials to report student accounts, but luckily Kurogiri had his login info written on a sticky note hidden on the back of the monitor. All in all it was a pretty easy job.

The whole thing had taken only a matter of days, in which time you had returned to the library only twice—the first to get confirmation on the success of Jin’s newest descent into low level crime which had set his heart thundering in his chest as you bent conspiratorially over his desk, your face just inches from his.

The second time, Jin had horrifically been absent from his desk, however he was met with possibly the most wonderful sight of his life upon returning from the labyrinth of shelves.

On one of the hundreds of post-it note pads that littered the library reception area, there were scribbles that he was sure hadn’t been there before. He almost tossed it, but upon closer inspection, you’d written your number there and signed just below it. In the cutest fucking handwriting he’d ever seen—cute not for any stylistic reason, but it simply felt that way just by virtue of it being yours—was written the digits and “-for book drop boy”

The noise he made reading that turned more than a dozen heads and almost got him fired there on the spot before any of his indiscretions were even discovered, but he couldn’t find it in himself to regret it.

So, nerve wrackingly, Jin texted you as he nearly sprinted home from his shift after that piece of shit asshole who made you cry had trudged angrily in and dropped off his ‘stolen’ book.

— HEY IT’S JIN!

— from the library

— shit sorry that wasn’t meant to be in caps

— n e way….

— I’ve intercepted the ~package~ so whenever you’re ready for the hand off, I’m good

Most perfect fucking human being to…

Oh my god thank you so much!!!—

Is tomorrow at like 5ish good for you?—

Also send me your order—

so we don’t have to do that awkward waiting in line for drinks bit—

Holy fuck you multi-texted too! Spinner would roll over in his fucking grave, he hated when Jin did that. But there was always so much to say and he could never think of it all at the same time. Plus, you wanted to save him from that god awful silence where you both stand in line next but he can’t talk cause he has keep repeating his order in his head over and over or he’ll blank when he gets to the register so it’s just this painful weird glancing back and forth—

Ugh, maybe all the shit about manifestation that girl who always loaned him exacto knives in his sculpting class always talked about was real.

Cause there was no way you weren’t just heaven-sent, handcrafted especially for him and all his general brand of weird.

The hours which usually flew by without Jin’s notice dragged all that night. He was so full of excess energy that made his hand shake and his thoughts race, not sure what to do with themselves now that they didn’t need to fantasize about you.

He decided to use all that extra motivation to vacuum the kitchen at 4:30 in the morning, much to his roommates' chagrin. She liked to get a nice solid eight hours every night and constantly reminded Jin of this, trying to sell him on that sleepy time tea before bed, though he really hated the smell of camomile.

Magne may lose out on some of her beauty sleep—not that she needed it and Jin would tell her that constantly, even if he did have some patently horrible judgment most of the time so he wasn’t really the best at offering reassurance—but the kitchen would be clean when she woke up so win-win really.

When she did wake up—wandering out of her room looking effortlessly put together in a way Jin could never hope to emulate—she sat at the table, sipping her tea and appraising him worriedly.

Jin was still in his jeans from the day before, hair spiking in every direction but down, and chewing his nails nervously despite losing most of them to the hour or two of early morning floor scrubbing.

“Babe,” she shook her head slowly, “take a breath.”

“Yeah okay,” he sighed and inhaled deeply, letting himself slide off the couch cushions and to the newly sparkling floors on the exhale.

“There, now wanna share what the hell is going on?”

He glanced up at her from the hardwood and groaned as she looked back down, brows furrowed over her glasses.

“Huhh, okay. So that absolute work of art from the library is meeting me for coffee later cause I have trade over this book I sort of stole, it’s a long story, and I don’t know if it’s a date—it sounds like a date, cause that’s where people go for dates and shit—but it might just be to pay me back for stealing the book. And if it is I’ve only ever been on that one date before which was with fucking Spinner like two years ago so—”

Magne held up a hand to quiet Jin before the speed of his words tied his tongue in physical knots. She looked contemplative, taking another soft sip of tea and nodding her head for a moment getting up to crouch on the floor by his head.

“You think too much for your own good, but never about the right things,” she mumbled, smoothing some of the hair from his face. “Does it really matter if this is a date or not?”

Jin blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” she chuckled in that way people do when kids ask them obvious questions—kindly, appreciative of the curiosity, “either way you cut it, you’ll be spending time with this person you like, yeah?”

“Mhm,” he hummed and sat up to face her as she stood.

“A date is just hanging out with a special name anyway,” Magne’s hands were firm but gentle as she hoisted Jin off the floor and onto his feet. “You’ll be fine.”

His shoulders slumped both in mild relief and dejection that he’d waisted so much precious time he could have been preparing possible topics of conversation or strategies to ask you out for real date on worrying over how this first time would go.

How did Magne always fucking know all this stuff?

Other people were such a mystery to him.

To be fair, though, Jin was a mystery to himself most of the time as well.

“Thanks, sorry for not saying anything about it earlier,” he sniffed as she smiled and pinched his cheek way fucking harder than necessary.

“It’s alright, I’m only a little insulted you waited until now to tell me about this massive crush you’ve developed.”

“Yeah it’s got its own gravitational pull at this point.”

Magne laughed at that and Jin felt the room lighten.

“I do expect details when you get back though,” she said pointedly, finishing her tea wandering back to her room to grab her bag. “Spinner asked me, very begrudgingly might I add, to fill in at another of his club tournament things tonight so I’ll be out late.”

“Really? I didn’t think you liked that stuff.”

Jin shuffled over to her doorway and peaked into the neat little space. Magne was rummaging through the meticulously organized closet and frowning as she answered.

“I do, Spinner just doesn’t agree with my battle strategies,” she huffed. “My alignment is far too ‘chaotic’ and ‘recklessly violent’ for his tastes apparently.”

“Oh, yeah that makes sense,” Jin laughed this time just envisioning the two of them stuck on a team. “Well have fun with that.”

“Yeah well,” she brushed by him into the hall, keys jangling as she went and calling over her shoulder. “Text me how it goes, and wear that new button up you got last week, it looks good on you!”

***

Much to Jin’s surprise and delight, Magne was right.

He was fine.

He was fine.

Fine was a bit subjective—as he was most certainly still highkey panicking on main as he got out of his last class and walked the short few blocks to the cafe on campus—but regardless he was perfectly okay.

Of course that all went right out the fucking window in the split second between him walking in and you already staring at the door as he entered. Your eyes widened just a bit and this smile broke out slowly across your cheeks when you waved him over and it was like suddenly every single creepy as hell day dream had just become reality.

It was a little overwhelming to say the least.

His heart may have actually stopped in his chest for a bit and he did contemplate the possibility that Kurogiri might have actually discovered his little plot, murdered him in cold blood and stuffed his body in the records room. This might all just be the afterlife, but that would mean that Jin had gone to some kind of heaven which didn’t really add up with his current tract record.

But it was fine.

Because you were really fucking easy to talk to.

Like, really fucking easy.

It was sorta strange actually, how you seemed to know all this shit he was into before he even really mentioned it.

After you traded off the goods, you both sat in the big comfy couches upstairs in the loft and you listened to him info dump, inevitably getting lost down innumerable unrelated tangents. You managed to keep up well enough though and not question the winding conversation.

“Damn,” he said, sipping at the last dregs left behind in his cup. “How do you know about all this stuff?”

“Uh,” you paused then, looking maybe just a bit sheepishly into your own drink. “I may or may not have spent a considerable amount of time eavesdropping into your conversations while you’re on shift.”

He saw flashes at that moment—dial up sounds going off between his ears.

Jin.exe has stopped working.

“...What?”

You grimaced and hid your face in your hands for a moment, “I know it sounds really creepy, my friends just sorta made a, um, game out of it? They tease me a lot about going to study at the library just cause of the cute guy that works there, so we all kinda stalk you a little bit just—wow this is sounding exponentially worse and worse every second.”

He gaped a bit despite himself as you cringed visibly and Jin tried to discreetly pinch his thigh to make sure this really wasn’t some sort of cruel, cruel fever dream.

“You think I’m cute…?”

He blinked once and your eyes shot up to meet his, a pained, half smile caught between your teeth. “I mean, yeah. I kinda thought I was being a bit obvious, sorry.”

“What no, holy fuck,” he spluttered, face on fire and legs bouncing restlessly against the couch across from you. “Don’t apologize, I have a, uh, staring habit too I guess.”

“I know,” you rubbed at the back of your neck and Jin didn’t think it was possible for you to be anymore endearing. “I’ve noticed, that’s like the whole reason I insisted on buying you a drink.”

“So wait is this a date?”

Jin wished almost immediately that he hadn’t asked, because Magne was right, it super didn’t matter but fucking shit on a stick he really wanted it to be a date!!!!

“Yeah,” you nodded. “If you’d like that.”

“Yes!—ah, I mean, uh yeah mhm,” Jin choked on his spit with enthusiasm, but it did earn him a concerned shoulder pat so he’d take the win.

It also afforded him the opportunity to walk you home after hours chatting until the streets were lit by burnt orange lamps and the cafe was closing. You didn’t live all that far from him actually and when you stopped to point out your door, the two of you were overcome by that telltale, charged silence.

Filled with potential.

Like a gas stove waiting for a spark to go up in flames.

It was you that struck the match.

“So, um, I promise I don’t just, uh, do this with everyone but, do you wanna maybe come inside,” you let your hand trail down his arm and slip into his palm, “I don’t feel like you’ve been properly compensated for saving my ass.”

Jin’s mouth was watering at the thought. He nodded slowly, eyes like saucers as you pulled him up your steps and through the door which shut promptly behind him.

Your place was nice in the sense that it fit you. He wasn’t really paying all that much attention to his surroundings as you locked the door and squeezed his hand in yours, leading him towards the end of the entrance hall.

When he stepped through to your bedroom, you toed off your shoes and he did the same, staring nervously and waiting for you to show him what exactly you meant by ‘further compensation.’

It was exactly what he’d hoped.

You approached him, still in the doorway, and stepped close so your chests brushed together. It was soft, the way you looked at him, sort of fuzzy around the edges while your hands trailed down his arms to place his palms at your waist.

It wasn’t like Jin hadn’t done this before—he totally had and definitely remembered all of it and wasn’t shit faced at all nope—but it hadn’t really mattered before. He knew in theory that he should take the lead, be a gentleman and make the first move and holy fucking god he was dying over there with the desire to finally live out his months and months of fantasies

But what if he did it wrong?

What if he ruined it now when he was so close to the finish line?

He’d never fucking forgive himself for it, and he could goddamn hear Magne in his head.

“You think too much for your own good.”

And he did, and he was right now, cause the room was only dimly lit by the street light streaming in through the window and you were reaching out to loop your arms behind his neck.

Should he lean down now?

Tilt left or right?

What if he clacked your teeth together?

What if—

Your lips were soft and hot against his, rubbing at the stubble on his chin before pressing close in that precious, puzzle-piece way human bodies fit together. He didn’t do much thinking after that.

His hands were too busy digging into the flesh of your hips separated by way to many fucking layers of fabric, and he couldn’t quite stop himself from indulging just a bit. Jin sucked gently at your lower lip, knees going weak at the glorious fucking sound you made in the back of your throat as he licked over the taught skin and tugged it between his teeth.

He could feel you smiling into his mouth, sharing breath and raking your fingers through the hair at the base of his neck. Jin groaned and you—fucking cheeky little bastard—slipped your tongue right past his lips and licked at the back of his fucking teeth like a popsicle in July.

Your hands in his hair hard tugged and his breath was coming faster, lips gliding against yours as the room turned to steam around him.

Through the haze he clung to the few remaining seconds of clarity.

Jin pulled away for one painful second to mumble against your lips.“You meant have sex, right?”

“Yeah,” your voice was barely more than a whisper, but you nodded frantically and rolled your hips against his.

“Ohh fuck, ‘kay good, thank god.”

For once Jin had nothing more to add.

And you weren't exactly willing to give him back his tongue long enough for any interruptions anyway.

***

“Holy fucking shit, look at you,” Jin gasped into your ear.

Both of your clothes had been discarded long ago, and he had your bare back to his chest while he sat propped against the headboard with your legs hooked on either side of his knees. It didn’t afford him the best view, but he got your head resting on his shoulder and pretty moans spilling right into his ear.

He didn’t need to see your pussy anyway.

The slick pouring out of your pretty fucking hole and coating his fingers as he pumped two of them into you was more than enough. His other hand wandered in the lovely expanse of space between your chest and your waist, running softly over the skin and pausing to pinch and roll your nipples just to hear you whine.

His cock was so fucking hard, trapped between your ass and his stomach, twitching every time you thrust your hips to meet the movement of his wrist.

“Jin, fuck please-”

You used his name every time you begged him for more and it was really going to his head.

“You’re so goddamn perfect, I’m gonna fucking ruin you,” he groaned and sunk his fingers deeper into your soaking cunt while his mouth dropped to your neck and sucked hard to mark you lovely skin.

He licked at the indents of his teeth, tasting your sweat on his tongue that tangled with yours again as your hand reached for his cheek and pulled him in. It was less of a kiss and more of a sloppy forming of your mouths that left you connected by a silvery string of spit that flashed in the low light. Jin sighed at the sight, rutting his hips against the cleft of your ass.

Your thighs twitched where they were spread and your hips lifted off the mattress to meet the languid thrusts of his fingers that curled up on every push in to hear the hitch in your breath.

He took pity on you and brought his other hand down to rub circles on your clit, listening for the telltale whimpers and the way your nails dug into his arm to find the perfect rhythm.

“I don’t really—mm, there fuck—feel like I’m paying you back right now,” you mumbled nipping your own trail of stepping stone bruises onto his throat as he picked up the pace and held steady on that sweet bundle of nerves.

“Are you fucking serious?”

He didn’t really mean to full on growl at you then, but just the thought that you’d really believe he wasn’t about to fucking drown in ecstasy just from watching you get off—just from touching, speaking, being in anyway acknowledged by you at all. Jin nudged your head to the side and bit down harshly into the crook of your neck, shuddering as you moaned and arched against his chest.

In any other scenario, he could never really find the right balance between too many words and not enough. The sheer volume of thoughts and interjections that raced like cars reaching the end of rush hour traffic made the formulation of any coherent conversation impossible, but now—

Now with your body so pliant in his hands, so willing and sweet and wanting him.

Wanting him.

What a concept.

He needed you to understand, to know how fucking over the moon, sunshine bright you had him burning.

And for once, he finally had the words to do it.

After all, he’d had months to prepare.

It was surprisingly easy to change your positions, to pull away from you for just a moment so he could roll and cage you on your hands and knees under him, ass in the air nestled against his cock.

“You really don’t think I’m getting anything out of this?” he groaned into you ear, rocking his length against you both for emphasis and because it felt so fucking good.

“Ah, well ya know,” your voice was so wrecked he was desperate to find out how much it would take for you to lose it entirely. “When you put it like that—mmh—I just feel bad you’re doing all the work. ”

You had this cheeky fucking grin on your face when you rocked forward so back so his cock slipped down to your dripping lips. The heat of your cunt was mesmerizing and it took a fuck ton of self control Jin was unaware he possessed to not ram straight into you right then.

“Yeah cause I’ve wanted to for fucking months goddamn it’s driving me insane.”

“What?”

Now that he’d started, Jin couldn’t find it in himself to stop. His hands dug hard into your hips, rocking so the tip of his dick caught your clit and you shivered below him, hot skin sliding with the motion of your bodies.

“It’s all I think about whenever I see you,” he was shaking when his hand reached down to grip himself, spreading your folds and soaking his length in your slick. “When you come in to work I just fucking lose myself thinking about how bad I want you to be mine, my pretty fucking thing to bring me coffee while I work and let me fuck you in the backroom.”

You whimpered under him, face pressed into the mattress as he draped himself over you, chest to back with his breath ghosting over your ear.

“Literal hours I just sit there at that awful fucking job and I only keep coming cause of you, cause I can watch you sit all cute in your chair and watch the way your cheeks squish up when you put your face in your hands and imagine they’re my hands and I’m about to spit in your fucking mouth so you remember who you belong too.”

“I—” you were nearly choking on the drool that soaked through your sheets as Jin lined himself up with your pretty little hole, pressing just the tip into your heat. “I didn’t think you ever—nggh, shit—noticed much about me.”

The corners of his eyes burned as sweat dripped down his forehead, he had to hold back a sob as he sheathed another inch into those perfect walls.

“Notice you? You’re all I fucking think about,” he pressed his lips softly against your shoulder, hands running from your chest to your sides as you took his cock and every word that slipped from his lips without complaint. “I could take such good care of you. I just fucking know it, just please, let me take care of you?”

“Fuck Jin,” your voice was closer to a sob than anything else but he needs you screaming. “You don’t really have to convince me—”

His patience had run out long ago, not even willing to let you finish before he’d sunk in to the hilt, spearing you on his cock with one final thrust. You ass was flush with his hips and his balls hung heavy and tight against the back of your thighs. The strangled little cry that worked its way out of your throat had gooseflesh erupting across his arms where he held you to him.

Jin couldn’t really be sure—it wasn’t like his brain was all that functional on a day to day basis and it most certainly was not now—but your walls clenching around him and that addictive warm, wet feeling milking his cock was on a whole other level than any fuck he’d ever had before.

There was something about the curve of your back against his chest, and the way you seemed to suck him in, drawing his length back in just seconds after he’d pulled out. Some about the feeling of your chest in his hands, of the sweat on your skin that he licked off in a long strip up your spine. Like you really were made for him. As though all those months spent in dream land, concocting your pretend lives together had spilled over into reality, molding you into the perfect shape to take him deep and hard and cry while you came on his cock just like he knew you were meant to.

“Oh, fuck yeah, gonna make you feel so good, I promise,” he mumbled, forehead pressed to the nape of your neck as his hips drew back and he sunk into you over and over again.

He needed you to moan louder, needed your neighbors on the other side of every wall to hear what he did to you, how he fucked you dumb on his cock and made you drunk with the pleasure of it—slutty and perfect and better than any fantasy he could ever concoct.

The room was filled completely with the wet slap of your bodies—his balls tightening up just at the squelch of you taking him—leaving only enough space for your cries and his grunting, no room left for any bitter doubt to creep in and ruin the sweetness in the air.

He could feel the surge growing in his stomach, the tensing in his thighs as his hips stuttered, but he needed you to cum first. Wanted to tip over the edge to the feeling of you spasming around him, so he let a hand slip from your hip to your folds. Jin only paused for a moment to run a finger around your stretched hole, feeling himself plunging into you, before drifting back up to your swollen clit and working the sensitive bud.

The mattress creaked and rocked along as Jin increased his pace, shifting his hips until his tip knocked against something that had your hands fisting in the sheets and your tongue lolling out in between cries of his name.

You didn’t give him much a warning, not that he minded really. Just a muffled shout with your head smashed into the pillows and the tightening of your walls surrounding him before he felt your whole body wracked with tremors so hard he had to wrap both arms around your middle and hold you while he rammed into you.

Jin wasn’t really keeping track of the filth that was pouring from his lips as he brought himself closer to release. A lot of encouragement, that you were taking him so well, cumming so pretty for him, mixed with a lot of thanks—for letting him have this, have you, for not casting him aside like everyone else always inevitably did.

He did have the clarity to drag one arm up and link your fingers together, pressing hard into the bed while blood pounded in his ears and his hips stuttered in their relentless rhythm. When Jin did finally cum, it was a strangely silent affair, all the words and sound that usually roared inside him dying on his lips as his cock spilled milky release deep inside you and your walls fluttered at the fullness.

And then it was as though every muscle in his body changed physical states.

Boneless, he collapsed onto you with a little huff. You didn’t even complain, just squeezed his hand tighter in yours and hummed at the weight of him.

“Well I think that was a, um,” you panted while he nuzzled his face deeper into your neck, “pretty equivalent exchange yeah?”

“I don’t know,” Jin kissed and nipped at the sweet skin of your shoulder, “I think you might have over paid a bit.”

You laughed, the joyous movement of your chest jostled him from your back and had his soft cock slipping from you in a gush of combined release. “I doubt that very much, I didn’t know I’d be getting to take your fucking load as part of the deal.”

“Shit,” he felt his heart seize in his chest, raising up on his elbows to look down as you turned to him. “I’m sorry, I should have asked.”

Your hand came up to stroke his cheek, clammy but welcome. He sat up enough so you could lay on your back and pull him back down to your chest amidst the sweat and cum slicked sheets.

“Don’t worry about it, I would have asked you to anyway,” you kissed the baby frizz at his hairline and if Jin hadn’t already melted into a puddle, then he certainly was now. “If I’d been able to talk at all.”

“Ha, yeah….”

A short silence descended in your dark bedroom. The noise of cars and the occasional shout filtered in through the window, but there was no other sound than your evening breaths. Jin tried not to ruin the peace while he had it.

It was such a rare commodity.

But he couldn’t say he mourned the quiet when you finally spoke.

“Did you wanna stay the night?” you asked in that soft way he always envisioned you would.

Soft so he’d know it was just a courtesy.

That you didn’t want him to leave.

“Uh, yeah, yes I would,” he stumbled over the words a bit, trying not to sound too eager but wanting you to know he would work a thousands shifts at the reception desk if it meant you held him for just a second longer.

“Good,” you sighed.

He felt you scoot down the bed and flopped onto his back so you could settle your head on his chest and drape an arm across his stomach. After another few minutes he felt you go limp at his side, soft and relaxed as you slipped away into dreams.

But though his muscles ached and his eyes felt heavy, Jin resisted the call to sleep.

He didn’t need to now.

You were here, in the flesh, and he could study you intently while his eyes were open.

No need for his brain to conjure up scattered images of you.

Because he had you now, tucked safely under his arm for him to keep and hold and fuck and love the way he wanted.

So there was no more need for sleep.

And no need for dreams.

[theartofbeinganeldar]

The Art of Being an Eldar: Legolas x Reader Chapter 4

Summary: After discovering that you were stuck in the fantasy world you had no recollection of, your memory was jogged after weeks of depression: this land was Middle-Earth. A council of wizards and Elves was summoned, and Thranduil expressed his wishes of wanting you gone. Elrond agreed to take you in and Gandalf was excited to share in his adventures with someone who knew nothing of the world, quite like a Hobbit, but you wanted to stay in Mirkwood, with Legolas and Tauriel, of which you'd made friends with. Legolas leaves in three days to locate the orcs who enroach upon Mirkwood's northern flank, and the council sees this as a chance for you to prove your worth. If you fail, you are to leave Mirkwood...

Chapter No.: Chapter 4

Key: [Y/N]=Your Name [F/N]= Friend's Name [B/N]= Bro's Name [S/N]= Sis's Name [M/N]= Mom's Name [e/c]= eye color [h/c]= hair color [s/c]= skin color

Notes: I want to thank all my readers for their feedback, likes, and reblogs! I'm only on Chapter 4 and all of you combined have made me feel really good about my writing. I've gotta admit, I was a little scared of going through with this multi-chapter fic at first, because while a few people really liked and enjoyed my stories on DeviantArt, they never got the reception The Art of Being an Eldar has. I just thought my writing sucked for the most part. Thank you all so much!

Warnings: Fluff, angst, graphic depictions of gore and violence (Cuz of orc battles y'know?), more angst, slow burn, some light depression in the first few chapters, some amnesia about Middle-Earth because the Valar say you're not supposed to have foresight, hard-core language, feels, lots and lots of feels, mentions of NSFW content, maybe some eventual NSFW content, LGTBQ+ characters, Thranduil being a jackass at first because he's fabulous, Legolas being a hot edgy prince that nobody can handle, Kili being an innocent bean, Hobbits being smol innocent beans, except for Bilbo 'cause he's been through some tough shit, Bard being dad of the year, Thorin being one dumbass boi, The fucking Silmarillion, awesome dragons, awesome Nazgul, awesome scenery, awesome stuff in general, Elrond isn't listened to by anybody, confused Aragorn is confused,  Denethor's a bitch as always, brace yourself for creepy as fuck Cream of Wormtongue Grima Wormtongue, Boromir lives, Gandalf. (yes these are all legit warnings don't judge me.)

Pairings/Ships: Legolas x Reader, Legolas x you, Aragorn x Arwen, Faramir x Eowyn, Thranduil x Elvenqueen, Galadriel x Celery Celeborn, Boromir x OC, Thorin x OC, Fili x OC, etc. general LoTR standard shippings plus some of my own cuz I can't stand my boys being lonely

Word Count: I try to keep my chapters short, under 2000 words. Rating: Teen (14+) for now

"You what?"

Apparently Leggy didn't comprehend the concept of being accompanied by a suddenly Elvish human from another dimension.

With a sigh and a roll of your eyes, you repeated, "I said, I'm coming with you when you leave for your orc-hunting mission."

Legolas narrowed his eyes. "And who gave you permission to do this?"

"The council, that's who. So suck it up buttercup, I'm coming with your sorry ass."

Legolas rolled his eyes. "Very well. Tell me, aside from randomly swinging a sword, do you know anything about weaponry?"

You raised an eyebrow. Shit, you'd have to fight? "No, but I can say a mouthful of greetings in Elvish."

Legolas raised an eyebrow. "Nin ista, Sairen, but words are not mightier than fighting skill in battle."

You scoffed. "I can think of a pretty famous phrase from my world that totally contradicts that..."

Legolas shook his head as he sauntered past you, down the stairs of the bridge you'd found him on. The sounds of his bows and knife sheaths clanking together as he walked relaxed you. "Of course you do, mellon." He paused to look at you. "Are you not coming? We leave in three days. If you are intent on coming with me, surely you cannot believe I will let you go without even so much as learning the proper way to stab an opponent?"

You made a face, but followed him anyway. "I know how to stab."

"How, then?" He gestured to you pointedly and crossed his arms.

"Um..." You mimed the gesture you'd probably use while stabbing an orc in the guts. "Like... This? With a twist?"

"That may work if your enemy has the weak skin and flesh of a human, or even on an Elf," He pointed out, "But we are fighting orcs, Sairen. Their hide is as thick as that of a boar, and their flesh is equally so." With a flourish, he flipped out one of his long knives. He paused in handing it to you. "I am not letting you keep this, mellon. My mother gave them to me."

You froze in reaching for the weapon. "You have a mother?"

Legolas chuckled at your wide-eyed expression. "You thought I did not?"

You stiffened before hurriedly turning away. "No! Of course not! Why would you think that?!"

Legolas laughed as he followed you. "Well, I do have one. She has been away on the other end of the palace-city. I should introduce you to her."

"Is she as fabulous as your dad?" You ran the tip of your index finger along your eyebrows. "And maybe even with the same super dark eyebrows?"

Legolas smiled. "No, no. She is perfectly beautiful."

"So you're saying your dad's not?"

"What?"

"Nothing." You waved a hand. "Where's the training grounds again?"

Legolas grinned evilly. "Well, your training begins now, Sairen. See if you can actually get to said training grounds without killing yourself on that blade."

Your jaw fell. "Are you fucking kidding me?! That's child's play! Don't you think I already know how to not do that?!"

"That is a double negative sentence, but no, I do not believe you already know this skill." Blue-Eyes shot you another grin. "Besides, we are not taking the average path to the training grounds. They are outside of the palace, after all. We will go out and around, on the hardest path imaginable. For a human, they would be entirely impassable."

You stared up at him dumbly. "Uh... Do... Do you even realize I spent the last nineteen years of my life around people with the mindset of shit water I might die because I'm a-- I was a-- human? Also, I was never agile. I won't be able to make it over a log, if it's big enough."

Blue-Eyes gave you a disapproving look. "Do the humans of your world never traverse nature?"

You pretended to think about that

"Hm... Let me see... Uhm... Yeah, nope, pretty much never, unless you're one of those super outdoorsey kinds of people, and the true ones of those are rare. For instance, most usually wear really tight clothes and walk through parks with stone paths and everything primped to perfect condition so that nobody even gets grazed by a dandelion, and everything's sprayed to keep the bugs away and animals are limited to squirrels and bunnies, then they wanna act like they just walked the fuckin' Sahara Desert without water. Real outdoor people are rare. Steve Irwin? Real. Bear Grylls? Real. Josh Gates? Real. Hell, when I was a very tiny little girl I used to watch a kid's show with two brothers who pretty much lived in the jungle. But out of everybody, those are the ones I can think of right off the top of my head. Them, and the few tribal races still out there."

Blue-Eyes made a surprised face. "Well... I am glad you got a chance to experience what real life is like."

"Thank you, Blue-Eyes." You'd reached the front gates of the palace, which were opened by a couple of those ninja Elf guys. You and Legolas walked on through, and into the forest, with its pink and amber leaves, down here, nullified into black and gray, piling up in the muck of the forest floor.

You'd been surprised when you'd seen this part of Mirkwood. Apparently, only the northern half was unaffected, but the rest of the once-spectacular Greenwood the Great was now victim to a strange plague, orc attacks from the north, and giant spider infestations from the south, from an ancient ruin called Dol Goldur. Animals no longer lived here, the rivers had mostly gone thick with filth, and the trees rotted and groaned in agony. The forest would confuse you, threaten to swallow you up and make you lose your way...

If you weren't an Elf.

Luckily for you and ol' Leggy, the two of you were Elves, and he had been raised here. If you stuck close to him, you'd be fine, even if the forest did manage to confuse you. He could hardly remember a time when the slow-acting plague hadn't been part of some region of the forest, and Tauriel had told you that he was 2, 371 years old. That was a long time for a forest to be sick.

"What even caused Mirkwood to get sick? Do you even know?"

"It is a nameless malice," Blue-Eyes replied, stopping all show-offy on a thick, low-hanging bough that precariously hung over a small gorge. "The darkness stems from Dol Goldur. Now, there are rumors; rumors of a necromancer, who resides in the ruins of that ancient fort."

"Necromancer?" That hardly sounded good. In anything where it was used, necromancer usually meant one who raises dead. "That doesn't sound good. Have you investigated it?"

"Of course not," Blue-Eyes gave you an odd look, like you'd just suggested he drink out of the toilet or something. You struggled to get up the side of a log he'd just casually hopped onto. "Why should we? They are merely rumors, and the forest has been sick for a long, long while. Still... This darkness unsettles me, as it does to all Sindar whom reside here."

"Dude, then maybe you should check the fuckin ruins," You mumbled, but he ignored you and continued hopping around from flowertop to flowertop. You just trampled noisily and clumsily along behind him. "Don't you guys like, live for light? So shouldn't you see if the ruins really do have a necromancer now? Especially since this dark ooze comes from it?"

Blue-Eyes shook his head. "King Thranduil does not wish for time to be wasted on rumors when we have other matters to deal with."

"Oh, so you mean he's too busy having everybody vote on which crown of berries goes best with his eyebrows."

"What?"

"Nothing. You Elves are just stupid."

Legolas grinned. "Well, humans are equally intellectually challenged."

You paused in chasing after him, stunned. He turned to face you when he didn’t hear you following. "Did you seriously just do that?"

"Do what?"

"You literally just used big words to sound smart." You laughed theatrically. "Oh! Pardon me, fine companion, I meant to implicate that you utilize gargantuan idioms to fabricate intelligence."

He smiled slightly as you finally made it up beside him. "I suppose you are not so daft," He relented teasingly, "Otherwise you would not even have those words in your vocabulary."

You made a face and rolled your eyes. "Whatever, blondie."

The training grounds were closer than you remembered, even taking the roundabout route. Along the way, though, you'd fallen into a bog, got your face scratched up by evil tree branches, and tumbled head-over-heels down a steep ravine, getting battered and bruised all over your body.

Apparently Middle-Earth-- Mirkwood specifically-- was prone to give previously non-Elvish members of other worlds injuries.

You made quite a show; barreling through a thorn bush and landing flat on your face right on the edge of the training grounds. You heard all the Elves turn their weapons on you, in case you were an orc, but then they seen your sorry ass, and Leggy casually coming down the steep ridge as if it was just a flight of stairs.

"Mae govannen," Said Legolas cheerfully to the Elves. Casually, he picked up his knife, which you'd thrown away from you halfway down so you didn't impale yourself at any point during the fall. Still, it'd skittered down alongside you. "Sairen, it seems you've failed this test."

"I dropped it on the goddamn border..."

"Nevertheless," Blue-Eyes ignored your response. "We are here now, and forfeiting other forms of training for the sake of redoing one failed task is pointless. You will learn as much as you can here, until I say we stop."

You finally moved, trying to at least sit up on your elbows. "It's only noon. We've got till nightfall, yeah? I can do that. No problem."

Legolas grinned down at you. "Mellon, you are of the Eldar now. You are stronger than before and do not need sleep unless you wish to dream."

"I don't what?!"

"Elves do not sleep unless we have been injured and need to heal," He replied, and grabbed you by the underarms to help you up. "We are stronger and more resilient than the race of Men. You are no longer imprisoned by the necessities of the human body."

Instant headrush slammed into you. "Apparently not all human body shit..."

He raised an eyebrow. "What do you speak of?"

"Headrush, dammit."

"Oh," He grew amused. "Do you mean the Blackness? Unfortunately, that befalls us all."

You glared daggers at him.

Another Elf approached, with a slender face and long brown hair. "My lord, most of the training grounds are taken up. You may yet have mine, if you wish so."

Legolas smiled. "Ah, my thanks. [Y/N], this is one of the Elves that accompanied Lord Elrond here, Lindir."

You extended your hand. "Nice to meet you."

Both Blue-Eyes and Lindir looked at your hand in confusion. Lindir, with a glance to Legolas, slowly tried to hand you his bow. With a roll of your eyes and a shake of your head, you realized they didn't even understand what a handshake was. "No no no, sorry; that's called a handshake. It's what two people do when they meet each other where I come from. I didn't mean to confuse you. SO." You bowed in the Elvish way. "Mae govannen, Lindir of House Elrond."

Lindir and Blue-Eyes smiled. Lindir returned your bow. "Mae govannen, [Y/N] of House Thranduil."

"Lindir will be accompanying us to trace the orcs, and Erestor of Rivendell," Said Legolas, "As will another of our own house, Elros; I believe you have met him already. He was the Elf who lead you to the councilroom. From Lothlorien is a friend of mine, Haldir, and of course, with the other Elven Lords aiding us, Mithrandir feels he should send his own aid as well..."

Lindir's eyes widened. "Do not tell me..."

Blue-Eyes nodded seriously. "He is sending Naughrim to accompany us."

"Naughrim?" You asked. Of all names, that didn't sound familiar. "Who's that? Somebody not well-liked among Elves?"

Blue-Eyes fought a smile. Lindir answered you. "Mellon, Naughrim is our tongue for dwarves."

Your mouth formed an 'o' in recognition. "Ohhhh, now I get it. Elves and dwarves hate each other for no explainable reason. Got it. Who's he sending?"

Blue-Eyes shook his head in exasperation. "They are all of Erebor. Balin and Dwalin, two are named, and of the other, he is the most insufferable of dwarves; Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, King Under the Mountain. Mithrandir believes that this will be a good experience for him as it is for us, but he refuses to come himself. He's all but forcing the situation."

You looked from Blue-Eyes to Lindir and back. "How can he force you? Dwarves and Elves are both stubborn beyond all reason, and none of you seem to take him seriously."

Legolas shook his head and pursed his lips. "Unfortunately, Dwalin is as good a tracker as any, and Ada  is not permitting many of the Sindar on this journey for the reason that we are merely meant to find where the yrch dwell, and go no further. We will need all the aide we can find, even if it is in the form of unwilling dwarves. As for them, he has promised treasure, the details of which I know not; I can only hope it is not any of ours he has promised them." He smiled at you. "Shall we?"

Before you could follow, he walked off; you glanced to Lindir questioningly. "...Ada? Who's that?"

Lindir smiled softly. "It means father. He is referring to King Thranduil."

"Oh. Now I feel stupid."

"Do not, mellon, for the language of the Elves is not easily learned unless you were born speaking the tongue."

With a roll of your shoulders, which ached, you followed Leggy.

***

"Ow, goddamn it, and goddamn you, you stupidly perfect Elf."

At the end of the day, you'd been cut, pricked, whipped by a bowstring, nicked, dinged, and all kinds of other small injuries that added up to one big mess of drying blood and bruises.

Blue-Eyes had had you train deep into the night, until the silvery waning moon had all but left the star-filled sky. Now, as the sunrise approached, you both sat on two convenient boulders, and he bandaged your bloodied hands. In the eerie half-dawn light, he looked ethereal, and his pale hands and silver tunic sleeves compared to your now dark-with-blood-and-mud-and-bruises hands and black sleeves was a huge contrast. Your hands shook slightly, aching and stinging and pained on various sorts of levels, while his were perfectly steady as he wrapped them in soft green leaves.

"Stop shaking, mellon," Legolas told you gently.

"What was that?" Your head snapped up. "Are you feeling sorry for me? Don't feel sorry for me! This is nothing! I've been shot in the calf by an orcish arr--OW!"

The leaves had drawn too tight and released some kind of juice that stung like hell. His hands hovered over yours. "My apologies, but it draws out the infection."

"What infection?!"

"You are not yet used to your Elven body yet," Blue-Eyes replied, looking into your eyes. "Since you are the equivalent of a newborn, I would say you are very susceptible to infections, sickness, and injuries."

You looked off dramatically into the distance. "That explains why I can't stop fucking getting hurt..."

"That it does," He smiled at you, and something pulsed in your chest. Da fuck... You fought a flush. He stood, then held out his hand to you. "Shall we return to the palace? You may rest until sunhigh, and then we will continue your training." You took his hand, and he helped you up; you stumbled into his chest, and backed up quickly. He took no notice, but patted your shoulder before going to retrieve his bow and quiver. "You did well today, Sairen, even if you frightened off half of the other Sindar and Silvan training here."

You made a face. "Pfft. They just can't handle my awesomeness."

"If you say so, mellon," He said, and started to take the easy way back, to your relief. You followed closely behind him.

You looked up at the stars as you walked in silence for awhile, until finally, you broke it. Of course, you broke anything, really... "Where I come from, they say there's a star for every soul that's passed away."

Legolas glanced to you, then followed your gaze wistfully. "That is something our two worlds have in common."

"Scientifically," You added, "They're spheres of hot air and gaseous materials wound up tight by gravity that glow and put off heat, but the idea always felt nice to me... But where I come from... You also can't see the stars."

Blue-Eyes halted in his tracks as if you'd just said someone murdered his mother. "I... What? You can't see the stars?!" He actually looked genuinely horrified by that idea.

You shook your head. "No. Humans... They've polluted the atmosphere too much. Filled it with trash, and man-made lights and even remnants of smoke... You can't see them."

He watched you even as you watched the stars. "I've never seen them like this... They're beautiful." You could see bands of galaxies and clouds of distant nebulae, and the small silver fires glittered in the billions, even as the pink-orange glow of the beginning of dawn was starting to show in the east. You were in awe.

You jumped when Legolas took your hand. "What?"

He smiled at you. "Come with me. I will show you one of the best stargazing places in all of Mirkwood."

"Thranduil's pavilion?"

"Better."

"Whoa. Dude, count me in."

He lead you off of the trail, deep into the woods, through the easiest ways that probably were a pain for him, but he did it anyway. Finally, you stopped at the base of a massive tree, stretching so far up you couldn't see its top. Its trunk was pockmarked with holes and vines, and after slinging his bow onto his back, he threw you a smile over his smile. "Come, Sairen."

You couldn't help but smile back. You climbed, quickly, all the way up, past the canopy, into the uppermost branches of the tree, where the copper-gold leaves thinned out to allow for one thick branch to get a view of the night sky. The branch was thick enough across to allow for two or three people to sit side-by-side against the trunk, and Blue-Eyes sat quickly as he helped you up.

Here, no branches obscured any part of your field of view. You got a perfect view of the sunrise, and the starry sky. "Holy shit..."

You felt him put an arm around you, and you stiffened, just before he breathed in your ear, "I will not let you fall from this tree, Sairen. You've only just arrived in this world, and should another portal be below that is activated by a beautiful sunrise, I am loathe to let you go, for there is so much I want to show you..." The sun burst over the distant mountains beyond Erebor, sending fiery orange and red across the sky. "Such as this. Your world does not sound as if it could have any sunrise as wonderful as this one."

A warm feeling blossomed in your chest as you watched the sunrise, jaw slack. "No... Not like this."

Legolas smiled, and finally turned his focus to it himself. Your eyes slowly dragged off of the beautiful scenery to look at the Elf beside you, and the warm feeling worsened; your heart started fluttering. Eldar only fall in love once... Galadriel had warned you.

...Shit.

A blush crawled up your face, and you tried your hardest to focus on the sky rather than the Elvish princeling pressed close against your side.

***

"Mae govannen, [Y/N] of the Woodland Realm," Greeted Lindir kindly as you approached the group of Elves gathering in front of the front gates.

"Mae govannen, Lindir of Rivendell," You replied with a smile. The Elvish greetings rolled off your tongue easily now. After the sunrise you and Blue-Eyes had watched together, you'd spent the last two days training at obscene hours and resting. Now, finally, the group of Elves leaving to track the orcs were gathering-- there were only about fifty in total, of which there were those wearing Woodland garments, the red-and-gold of Lothlorien, and the greens, purples, and browns of Rivendell. Apparently Galadriel, Celeborn, and Elrond didn't agree with Thranduil sending what would've only been a dozen to track some very dangerous orcs.

You heard several of them muttering to each other about Naughrim, something all of them had in common.

You swung your light traveling pack off of your shoulders and by your feet, scanning the crowd for a certain platinum-blonde head-- unfortunately, most of the Elves from Lothlorien had blonde hair. You looked at Lindir. "Where's Legolas?"

Lindir glanced around. "He is on his way, I am sure. After all, it is he and Haldir whom are leading this journey."

You nodded. "I've never packed for something like this before... I hope I didn't pack anything weird or forget something."

Lindir looked confused, then recognition flashed across his face. "Oh. Forgive me, I had forgotten you do not have this experience. Tell me, what did you pack?"

You shifted your weight nervously, and lowered your voice. "Uhh... Two extra pairs of clothes in case these get ruined, some extra food, even though I've noticed I don't have to eat as much as before, and some water. Then there's these," You gestured to your back, where a quiver and longbow hung from your back. You felt its weight all too strongly, and that of the sword on your hip and the knives on your thighs. "And some of those special leaves that're used for bandages."

Lindir smiled and placed a hand on your shoulder. "Mellon, you have packed what we all have, and lightly, as well."

You smiled. "Thanks. Just consider yourself lucky that I don't know how to read Elvish, or I would've packed a book or two to keep me company."

Lindir chuckled and stepped back. "Well, for now, I am glad of it. On this journey you will learn much, hopefully, and by the time we return, you may be able to speak more of Elvish. It is harder to learn to read it, I have heard, much harder."

You ran a finger over your chin in thought. "I wonder if Thranduil would let me go to Dale or Laketown to get some books in English..."

"Forgive me," Lindir looked confused. "I do not know what that is."

You realized what you'd said a second too late. "Oh! Sorry. Where I come from, Common is just referred to as English."

"Oh, I see now. I am sure he would, and if he does not yet, then perhaps one of the Woodland Elves could bring some back for you. What of Legolas? Are you not friends?"

You blushed. "Yeah, I hope so. I've never been very good at making friends, though. Nobody's ever really liked me." You realized Lindir was staring at you with an absolutely terrified expression. Your own eyes widened in alarm, and you frantically patted your face. "What?! Is there something on my face?!"

Lindir shook his head. "I-I am not sure. Your skin has suddenly gone red, as if burned. Are you ill?"

"Uhhh..."

You were spared the embarrassment of explaining blushing by all the Elves gathered suddenly gasping and bowing in the direction of the stairs. Lindir saw the cause before you did, and his jaw fell. "By all the Valar..." He bowed deeply, and you followed his motion, but not before catching a glimpse of who it was. Thranduil, of course, and Legolas, following a she-Elf in a tunic that looked as if it were made of starlight itself, with flowing white hair and alabaster skin.

"Ui!" Shouted Thranduil irritably. "Ni telima lume, autauva!"

You leaned closer to Lindir. "What did he say?"

"He is forbidding her to join us," He answered quickly.

The she-Elf whipped around, generating a power almost as strong as Galadriel's. Legolas stepped forward. "Amal... Mecin."

She shook her head. "Yon, venno, nin carindo ier nin indo. Alye uva pusta ni."

"What did she say about pasta?" You whispered.

"Sh!" Lindir said quickly.

The woman looked at Thranduil and Legolas lovingly, before approaching Thranduil and placing both hands on his face. Thranduil closed his eyes in regret, and the woman kissed him; you looked away, embarrassed. That was the Elvenqueen.

That was Legolas's mother.

"Melinyel, Thranduil, alye ista si."

Thranduil sighed. "Melinyel, mela... Mecin ea girthonwed."

With that, Legolas reluctantly took his mother's hand and lead her down the stairs. They disappeared in the crowd, until you heard the Elvenqueen's voice. "Rise, all of you." Unsure, the Elves rose one-by-one. "Which of you hail from far places, whom rescued my son Legolas Greenleaf from the fate of an early death?"

The Eldar glanced to one another, realized it wasn't their neighbor, and slowly, like somebody who'd gotten called out in class, you were being stared at, and a path was made between you and her majesty, while Legolas stood beside her.

You swallowed hard, suddenly terrified. Lindir patted your shoulder. "You have been summoned, mellon. Go, I will make sure your pack does not get swapped with someone else's."

You tried to look and walk confidently, but you were terrified. She was beautiful and indimidating, and you had to admit, you were definitely intimidated. When you reached her, you bowed as deeply and respectfully as you could, a fist over your heart. "Elen sila lumenn omentielvo, your majesty." You didn't know what else to say. What you'd said to Galadriel and Celeborn was the most respectful thing you knew in Elvish, and you'd never been in the presence of royalty.

"You come from another world," She looked down at you indifferently, and you suddenly felt very small and very weak with everybody's eyes on you. This was nothing like Thranduil's fabulously indifferent look. "Yet still, you saved my son's life. After, you make the presumption that you can live and walk among us as one of us, freely, unburdened, merely because you came here by happenstance and you were allowed the reward of living. Do you feel as if this is the correct course of action for you to take?"

You glanced to Legolas, absolutely horrified. "Y-your majesty..." Your hot-headed tongue, a lot more toned down, popped into existence. "I saved your son's life because he didn't deserve to die. I was given the freedom to live, and to repay that, I mean to make the most of my time here by helping in whatever ways that I can. King Thranduil has given me the chance to prove myself worthy of living here by allowing me to join in hunting for the orcs. If I fail, I will leave Mirkwood, and go with Lord Elrond to Rivendell."

Legolas's eyes widened a fraction of an inch, before going back to their normal selves; he looked to you with almost a sadness, but you couldn't figure out why. Elvenqueen smiled, as if proud. "Then you are not what the rumours of your world have made you out to be. You are humble and grateful, qualities I did not expect from one of this Earth. You possess a unique personality, [Y/N]. Tell me, who are your parents, so that I may refer to you properly?"

"I have no father," You said quickly, relieved that she was just trying to scare you. "None I care to speak about. But I do have a mother, who I love very much. Her name is [M/N]."

Elvenqueen smiled. "Very well, [Y/N], child of [M/N]. Here, we, all of us, have a secondary name, such as my son; Legolas Greenleaf. During this journey, you may earn your own."

You smiled back, relieved beyond relief that she'd decided not to kick your ass for existing. "My thanks, your majesty."

She sailed away regally, and Legolas shot you a glare. "Why did you not tell me you would be leaving us?" He demanded.

You balked. "I-I said if I failed..."

"And you are most likely to do so," He snapped, sending your heart and soul plummeting to roughly the center of Middle-Earth. Without another word, he followed his mother.

"Mellon?" Said Lindir from behind. You turned around; He held his bag and yours, which you gratefully took from him.

"Thanks," You said, but your eyes followed Legolas's back as he disappeared into the crowd.

"Is everything alright?"

"Just fine," You shrugged. You were used to being abandoned.

Lindir looked doubtful. "Very well, if you say so. May I introduce you to those you will be most judged by?"

"Sure."

He took you through the crowd, to the guy who helped you find the councilroom. "Ah, [Y/N]. Mae govannen."

You bowed your head and returned the greeting to Elros in a monotone voice. "So your name is Elros?"

"Yes," He replied. "Son of Elrond."

If you were taking a drink of water, you'd've spewed it everywhere. "Huh? But isn't Rivdendell like, waaay over the Misty Mountains?"

Elros chuckled. "Yes, but those of the Eldar cannot always remain in one place. We yearn for far places, and even farther shores. Long years I have spent in the halls of my father, but I left for Mirkwood when my sister, Arwen Evenstar, left for Lothlorien, to spend a time with our mother's mother, Galadriel."

Your eyes were wide. "Galadriel is a grandma?! Your grandma?!"

Lindir and Elros looked at each other in amusement. "Elves," Said Lindir, "Live forever, so long as we are not killed by injury, or the wounds of the heart."

"Wounds of the heart?" You echoed.

"When love remains unrequited, it is sometimes too much to bear," Replied Elros, "And the victim suffers long before dying of a broken heart. Oftentimes, it is when a wife perishes during childbirth, or when war or battle takes the life of a beloved, and their souls pass into the Halls of Mandos. I still worry for my father, even though my mother has long since passed due to child-sickness."

Your eyes widened. "I'm so sorry."

Elros raised a hand. "She is at peace now. She resides in the halls where her mother lives, and many of my kin who have long since passed on."

"Is Elrond gonna be okay?" Now you were worried. You didn't even know the guy (Even though you probably knew him before your amnesia.) but you didn't want him to die of heartbreak. He was being nice to you, and offering you a place to live if Thranduil decided to be more of an ass.

"He is strong," Lindir assured you, and partially Elros. "He is stout of heart and fierce of soul. He will live long yet, that I can assure you with the utmost certainty."

Together, Lindir and Elros took you to where another dark-haired Elf in the Rivendell attire spoke with a Lothlorien Elf in red-and-gold armor. White hair was braided away from his stern face. Elros said something in Elvish, getting their attention, and they both bowed to you. "[Y/N], child of [M/N], may I introduce you to Erestor, Chief Counselman of Elrond, and Haldir of Lothlorien."

"Mae govannen," They both said.

Haldir regarded you warily. "I have heard you come from far lands, one beyond even Arda."

You tried not to look stupid. "Arda?"

"This world upon which we live," Haldir clarified.

"Oh!" Now you knew what they were talking about. "You mean this whole planet? Mine never had a cool name; Earth, that's it, with a bunch of different countries on it. Are there countries besides Middle-Earth here?"

Erestor chuckled. "Yes. There is Beleriand, just the remains of it, to the farthest west. Also in the west lie the Gray Havens, and across the Sea are the Undying Lands of Aman, far from Endor-- that is to say, collectively, Middle-Earth and Beleriand."

"Oh, cool! Where I come from, nowhere has cool names anymore, except for maybe Dubai, Greece, and Rome. In the past, there were hardly ever cool places, except for Egypt and Babylon."

The four Elves around you glanced to each other in amusement, as if you were a child just learning new things; and you pretty much were...

"Haldir," Said a familiar voice, and you perked up as Blue-Eyes stepped through the crowd. Your heart sank as he completely avoided your gaze. Damn, you should be used to this kinda shit by now. One small thing and someone abandons you. "We go to meet the dwarves. You have told your party, yes?"

"Of course, mellon."

"As have I," Added Erestor as Blue-Eyes went to ask. "None of us may like this, but it the word of a Maiar, of which the Noldor still yet revere. Worry not, Legolas."

Blue-Eyes nodded, glanced to you, and walked back through the suddenly-departing crowd as the doors opened. You hefted up your bag further onto your shoulder. "Mmkay, Lindir?" You fell into step with the purple-clad Elf.

"What is it?"

"Questions. Lots of them. What the hell is a Mayan and a No-door?"

Lindir chuckled. "Maiar, and Noldor. The Noldor are the oldest of the Elves. The Maiar are wizards, servants of the Valar; such as Saruman, Mithrandir, and Radagast."

"They met gods?"

"Yes," Said Lindir doubtfully, eyeing you. "Do the people of your world not know of their gods?"

You scoffed dryly. "You kidding me? Almost everybody believes in some bearded guy in white floating through existence and pointing to a random spot, then saying 'Let there be light!' Bam, universe created. Others have much more gruesome stories; like in Norse, Odin and his two brothers cut up a giant to create the world. Then there was Egyptian, where two godly people representing the earth and sky consummated and BAM, universe created again. They all say the gods came from the sky, which others believe to be aliens-- people from other planets entirely-- but I've always been an atheist."

"And what does that mean?"

"That I don't believe a goddamn word of any of that 'god' shit."

"You should not speak of them so, for they hear all."

"Yuck. Let's hope they don't find somebody on their wedding night."

Lindir's eyes bugged out of his head. "That was... Sudden."

You grinned. "I'm like that. Get used to it, Lindy."

He frowned. "My name is Lindir."

"I know that," You laughed. "It's a nickname. It's a sign of friendship."

Lindir smiled. "Oh. Then we are friends, then?"

"Sure! I've never been friends with so many people before!" You looked ahead excitedly, waving when you seen Legolas glaring at you. So what if he was pissed? You'd make him un-pissed.

Lindir gave you a sad look. "But you have only befriended Legolas and myself."

"And Tauriel."

"Still, that is only three people." He looked genuinely confused. "Do the people of your world not believe in friendship either?"

You sighed. "Not really. They're more interested in betrayal. Me, personally, I've had it all. Betrayal, death, abandonment... I've gone through some shitty times, that's for sure. One catastrophe after the next. One painful step at a time through it. I've been through hell and back, been shattered like glass and looked death in the eye, and somehow, I'm still standing. Sometimes it feels like I've lived a thousand lifetimes in only nineteen years." You gave him a sideways smile before looking back ahead of you, trying to block all of the flashbacks...

Lindir regarded you with newfound admiration. "I can... See it, in your eyes. I believe all of us can. The things that you have endured are marked on your stride, and not many could recover from what you have recently gone through so quickly. A human with your strength is... Unheard of."

You laughed. "Yeah, 'cause now I'm an Elf!"

Lindir laughed too then, as did a few other Elves and she-Elves near to you-- as you walked out of the doors of Mirkwood's palace, you got this strange, tingly sensation in your core... The odd feeling of people laughing with you, not at you. The feeling of not being judged. Of people realizing you've been through hell. Of people not automatically striking you onto their enemy list because you're different.

As you moved into the north, the light filtering through the leaves was golden, and everything seemed at once surreal and ethereal. But aside from those two feelings, you felt one stronger than any other. You smiled as you looked around at your new friends in this new world, which still felt so familiar. You were happier than you'd ever been. Even though you'd miss your family, you were glad the portal had been closed.

And there are many paths to tread...

Through shadow, to the edge of night...

Until the stars are all alight...

You passed Blue-Eyes, who'd climbed a tree to scout, and when he seen your awestruck, childlike expression, even he, who was currently pissed at you, couldn't help but smile at down at you. You smiled back. That warm feeling returned.

Finally, I'm where I belong.

I'm...

I’m...home.

Tag List: @tesserphantom​ @thedragonghostofmordor​ @hauntedsiriel​ @reclusive-chicken-nugget​ @naryamirie​ @legolasdeserveslove​ @escapingthoughtsandsecrets​ @sagabriar​ @brushwood-souls​ @taurlel​

If anybody wants to be tagged, just let me know!

Extra Notes: Elvish is SO FUCKING HARD. And yes I put the Elvenqueen in this. And dwarves are inbound. Don't guess the plotline, just DON'T.

Fun Facts: In Old Nordic mythology, there was a forest known as Mirkwood. There was also a dwarf called Durin, who created the line of the most power dwarfs, some of which, just to name a few, were Thorin, Fili, Kili, Dvalin, Balin, Oin, Oakenshield, and Gandalf. There were also many types of Elves-- Ljosalfar were the Light Elves, and Dokkalfar were the Dark Elves. In general, Elves were known as Alfar, and they lived in Alfheimr, "The Land of the Elves." Supposedly, Alfheimr had shining trees of silver and gold, like Lothlorien. Also, there was a dragon called Fafnir, a cursed fire-drake, coppery-red, who laid atop a mound of gold and guarded his wrongfully-taken treasure with his life. The original owner of this treasure was a dwarf, reduced to a husk of his former self, called Andvari, who, out of all of this treasure, loved most a golden ring, inscribed with runes. He cursed this ring, so that all who wore it would soon come into misfortune...