#if you can’t read my handwriting neither can I | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

scribes-of-valar · 28 days ago

Text

unexpected loyalties

Bilbo Baggins x fem!dwarf!reader (no beard)

a/n: based off the movie, not the books, just to clear that up if there is any book inconsistencies. First time writing for this fandom, and posting on this blog, let me know if I got anything wildly incorrect

Summary: Neither of you ever expected to like each other, let alone anything more. But you find yourself drawn to one another, despite the boundaries between you.

Another knock, he wasn’t sure he could handle many more visitors. Four dwarves were enough for him to want to run out of his home screaming. He tightened the ties of his robe, took a deep breath, and quietly prepared himself to turn down whoever waited outside his door.

Yet, when it swung open his chest deflated and he found himself completely underwhelmed. He should be thankful that his doorstep was empty and that there were no more unwelcome guests to turn away. But he found himself incredibly confused. “Hm,” he pokes his head out slightly, looking around for stragglers. “Hello?” He calls out hesitantly.

He jumps back as a woman leaps out of his rose bushes. “Oh!” You smile widely at him, shoving your hand out for a strong handshake. “Sorry about that, I thought I had the wrong hobbit.”

He gives your hand a brief shake, never one to forgo his manners. “I believe you do. In fact, you all do.”

Your face screws up in distaste and you look so forlorn he almost feels bad. Almost. “You are Mr. Bobbins aren’t you?”

He shakes his head with a scoff, “I am most certainly not. My name is Bilbo Baggins-”

You interrupt him with a relieved laugh. “Oh, apologies, then you are the hobbit I’m looking for. I’m afraid my cousin’s handwriting is nearly impossible to read. So the meeting is here, then?” You look at him expectantly, eyes wide and eager.

Bilbo has to suppress the urge to stomp his foot and slam the door. He’s too old to be behaving like a child, but bebother and confusticate these dwarves he can take no more visitors! “There is no meeting here!” He snaps, nearly shouting in your face.

Your brows furrow and you shake your head stubbornly. “They cannot have canceled it.” You seemed nearly as stubborn as him. You plant your feet, crossing your arms and glaring at him. “I would have been informed.”

Bilbo opens his mouth to inform you that no, nothing has been canceled because nothing has been scheduled. At least nothing he has been informed of. He knows this is all that blasted wizard’s fault. If only he’d stuck to his fireworks and simply left Bilbo alone, he would be having the peaceful evening he’d wished for.

You narrow your eyes suspiciously, peering over his shoulder as something that sounds very old and sentimental breaks behind him. “Sorry about that!” A voice calls from his kitchen. Bilbo clenches his eyes shut, sucking in a sharp breath, and leans so you can’t see further into his home.

“I do believe that was Balin’s voice,” you tell him, your voice low with an unspoken threat. “Mr. Bobbins-”

“Baggins.”

“Mr. Baggins,” you correct, “are my kin in there?”

He shrugs, playing dumb and giving you a confused look. “And who,” he draws slowly, “would your kin be?”

You let out a heavy sigh. He doesn’t have any time to stop you as you nudge him to the side and shove your way into his home. “Thank you for the hospitality,” you mutter sarcastically. Your face lights up as you catch sight of an unruly blonde head of hair. “Fili! Kili!”

They call your name in return, rushing over to greet you. “Any trouble on the journey?” Kili asks as he takes your sword from you. He absentmindedly tosses it towards Bilbo who has to rush to catch it before it breaks something.

“None at all, you know I’m a lot better at subtlety than the two of you are,” you tease.

Bilbo’s eyes narrow as he takes you and the other dwarves in. You said your cousin sent you a letter. There was no possible way you could be their cousin. You didn’t look like any dwarf he had ever seen. Not that he had seen many, of course. There wasn’t enough gold or adventure in Hobbiton to bring many through.

But he had heard the stories of dwarven women. How they were a dying breed, far more men than there were women. He also knew that it was incredibly hard to tell a wife apart from her husband, mainly because of the great big beards.

You were taller than the others, far less hair, and simply not what he thinks when he pictures a dwarvish woman. “I see you met our host,” Fili nods towards Bilbo whose arms are now absolutely overloaded with the ridiculous amount of weapons you carry. Fili is clearly suppressing a slight smirk as he looks upon Bilbo. It’s hard not to feel a little offended.

You turn back to Bilbo and frown, “Not a very welcoming host, these hobbits, are they?” Kili shakes his head, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and dragging you back towards the kitchen.

Bilbo huffs and tosses the weapons to the floor with a put-off look. There’s loud cheering coming from the kitchen as the others greet you. He takes in a deep breath and sets his shoulders. Enough is enough. Clearly, there has been some mix-up. Whatever bearded reunion is taking place in his dining room is not meant for him. He’s just going to walk over to you all and inform you to take your business elsewhere.

Bilbo only manages one step forward before a knock echoes through the front hall. It seems deafening, an ominous warning. He knows that if he goes to answer the door there will be no going back. These dwarves will be here to stay. He’s tempted to just ignore it, to usher you all out and slam the fence closed behind you.

But then there’s a second knock, a third. He cannot simply ignore it, it’s too rude. Despite knowing better, he goes and answers the door. He’s nearly knocked over by a pile of stacked dwarves. He jumps back in shock, glaring down at them all.

“That would be the rest of them,” you muse, appearing out of nowhere behind him. You grin at his affronted face, “Got any extra chairs?”

The Hobbit is certainly interesting. You struggle to find a kind word for him. He’s not exactly happy to have you all in his home. And you can’t entirely blame him, you and your kin aren’t the best guests. But Gandalf had told you all he was perfectly fine hosting the company in his hobbit hole.

Though, you have a growing suspicion he wasn’t telling the whole truth if the wicked looks Bilbo is shooting him is anything to go by. “Need a hand?” You ask, hovering in the entry of his pantry.

He lets out a low sigh, just barely glancing over his shoulder at you. He stands amidst the wreckage of his once-great food stores. The rest of it is being bickered over in his dining room. If what Gandalf has told you is true and he is going to be your thief, then it shouldn’t matter.

You’ve done him a sort of favor, clearing out his stores before the journey. No one wants to come back home to rot and mold having crept over all their food. But again, you’re starting to doubt the wizard’s words. He’s known for his tricks, but you didn’t think he would do something as sly as this.

“I’m perfectly fine, thank you.” His voice is snippy, but he’s trying his best to be polite. You barely hold back a laugh at how hard he’s keeping up the pretense of being gracious.

“Don’t be stubborn,” you insist, moving past him and grabbing a broom. “I don’t mind. Durin knows we aren’t a clean people.” He gives you an odd look as you start to sweep the mess up. He stays firmly planted in his spot, gaze tracking you. You try not to grow uncomfortable at his intense stare but it is hard.

“You are a dwarf, then?”

Your face screws up in irritation and you shoot him a severe look. He lets out a slight whimper, whirling around and pretending to be fascinated by his shelves. “Yes,” you grit out, “I am. Despite the oddities in my appearance, I am a dwarf.”

He whips back towards you, face drawn tight in confusion. “Oddities?” He demands.

“Look at me,” you gesture to yourself, feeling a tight ball wind itself up in your throat. “No beard, too tall, I might as well just be a short human. I’m practically repulsive.”

His jaw drops and he stares at you for a long while. You can feel the judgment, and can practically hear his thoughts as he wonders at how ugly you are. Bilbo’s mouth opens and shuts multiple times before he lands on a squeaky, “Repulsive. That’s ridi-”

“There you are!” Gandalf’s head dips into the pantry and he gives you both an impatient smile. “We are waiting for you, Master Baggins,” he says your name and you nod. You throw the broom back in place and shove past them both, swallowing down tears.

They watch you go with varying degrees of shock. “My word, what did you say to her?”

Bilbo snaps his jaw shut and shakes his head, “I might have brought up how peculiar it is that she doesn’t have a beard.”

Gandalf nods sagely, as though this is something he has experience with. “Sensitive topic for young dwarvish women.”

��Shouldn’t we wait for him?” You hiss to Kili as you all leave the tavern. You’d written Master Baggins a note, promising to wait for him in the Green Dragon Inn. If he didn’t make it by 11 AM, you would all leave. But Thorin was demanding your leave early, it didn’t seem fair to not give Bilbo a chance.

Fili glances towards Thorin, making sure he’s not listening to the three of you. “Best not to argue with him. He’s been upset since the meeting in the north.”

You sigh, mounting your horse and falling into line with them. “I don’t blame him. They claim to be brothers, yet won’t come to our aid.”

“Watch, once we reclaim our home, they’ll all be demanding payment from the stores of Erebor.” You cannot help but agree with Kili. You are a greedy people, there’s no denying it. The lust for gold, at times, can rival that of a dragon’s. But you were loyal, to a fault. How could they abandon you all so readily?

You look towards Thorin and feel yourself deflate. He has been different since the stirrings of the journey were brewing. More prone to anger, and quicker to draw his blade. Something dark awakes within him when he thinks of Erebor. Reclaiming your home will benefit you all, but you cannot help but fear the dragon that lurks beneath its bones.

Not the actual dragon, yes that’s terrifying, but the curse that lays over that gold could spell all your doom. You’d watched as it happened to one king, you don’t want to see another fall to the sickness.

You’re about to ride up to Thorin when you hear a voice shouting wildly behind you all. “Wait! Wait!” You glance over your shoulder, a grin slowly spreading across your lips. Bilbo chases after the company, waving his contract in the air.

Thorin frowns, bringing you all to a halt. Bilbo slides to a stop beside Balin. “I signed it,” he pants out, holding the contract out. The older dwarf frowns suspiciously, taking it from him and examining it through his lens.

After a moment he nods at Thorin, “He signed it,” he reaffirms. Thorin glances towards Bilbo and you can’t tell if he’s going to honor his word or not.

After a tense pause, Thorin finally nods, “Give him a pony.” Bilbo shakes his head and waves him off.

“No, that won’t be necessary,” he insists. “I’m perfectly fine walking. You know I almost made the trek to-” Kili and Fili lean down and grab him by the jacket, hoisting him atop a pony.

They both sport sore frowns as you ride up beside them. “I do believe I’m owed something, gentlemen.” You hold your palms out expectantly, Bilbo gives you an odd look as they both slam their gold into your hands.

“What’s that?” He wonders as they ride off.

You smile down at him, “You’ve just made me a rich woman, Master Baggins. They had a bet, about whether or not you would show.”

His brows raise and he narrows his eyes at you. “You thought I would come?”

You laugh, “Obviously.” You chuckle a little and toss him one of the pouches, “Here. It’s only fitting you should have some.” You nudge the side of your mare, urging her forward. Bilbo watches as you ride off, face furrowed in confusion as he rolls the gold around in his palm.

He doesn’t know why you believing in him means so much, but it does.

“Something caught your eye?” Bilbo startles from his thoughts and turns towards Balin. The old dwarf smiles slightly, glancing over Bilbo’s shoulder towards you. Bilbo flusters, stuttering slightly on his words as he shakes his head.

“No,” Balin raises a brow and Bilbo shakes his head harder, scoffing. “No, not at all. I was only lost in thought.” Unwittingly, Bilbo’s gaze drifts back towards you. You’ve stripped off the heavy leathers of the day and are leaning over the fire, stirring some stew.

The light of the fire casts you in a sort of glow. You could be mistaken for an elf by someone passing by. You tuck a braid behind your ear, standing up and glancing around camp. When your gaze drifts past him, he’s quick to turn back around.

Balin is staring expectantly at him, giving him a cheeky smile. Bilbo’s quick to change the subject, not wanting to fan the flames of Balin’s assumption. “Are there other dwarf women,” he points vaguely towards you, “like her, I mean?”

Balin shakes his head, puffing on his pipe. “No, no one quite like her. She’s a fierce fighter and an even fiercer friend. She’s been working hard to campaign for this journey.”

“No,” Bilbo glances back towards you, ensuring you’re not listening. You’ve walked off, looking towards the ponies with a confused expression. “I mean, physically,” he rubs over his chin, miming where a beard is meant to be.

Balin huffs out a laugh. “No, it’s quite rare for any of us to be without beards. I don’t recommend bringing it up to her, it’s quite a sore subject. We think there might be some human blood, maybe even an elf somewhere down her line. It’s the only explanation for it.” He shakes his head with a sad smile, “A shame, truly.”

Bilbo continues to find himself more and more confused by his company. The way they speak of you, you’d think you were a troll, not a woman. “A shame? She’s,” he hesitates on the word, worrying it might be inappropriate. “She’s quite pretty,” he lands on.

Balin shrugs like there’s nothing to be done about it. “By any standard other than a dwarf’s. You have to understand, laddie, she’s a dwarf, despite appearances. No beard, too tall, she’s not pretty, as you said, to her people.”

Bilbo thinks it’s a horrible shame that you’re going to go through your whole life believing yourself to be some hideous creature. In truth, you’re one of the most beautiful women he’s ever met. He finds himself distracted every time your eyes meet his.

“Bilbo,” you pop up behind him, scaring him as you seem to be doing. You smile slightly and nod towards the edge of camp. “Come with me?” Bilbo’s eyes widen as he follows after you. For a horrible moment, he thinks you’ve heard his and Balin’s conversation.

You lead Bilbo into an outcrop of trees, there’s a little bit of firelight shining through ahead. His suspicions shift and he wonders if something else hasn’t gone wrong. Kili and Fili both stand by an overturned tree, peering over it and staring at something. Bilbo can’t see what it is from where he stands.

You stop beside them both, turning towards him and giving him an apologetic smile. “We need your help-”

“We were meant to be watching the ponies,” Kili interrupts.

“We’ve encountered a slight problem,” Fili motions toward the tree and Bilbo comes up to join them. “We had sixteen,” Bilbo looks to the pen where the ponies were being held and frowns.

“Now there’s fourteen,” you sigh, rubbing a hand over your face and glaring at Kili and Fili.

“Oh no,” Bilbo frets. He counts the ponies again, just to ensure that you all didn’t make a mistake. “Should we not tell Thorin?”

Your face blanches and you share a panicked look with the brothers. “No,” Fili quickly butts in. “No reason to worry him. You are, after all, our burglar. We thought you might be able to help us.”

“We think we know where they went,” you tell him. Bilbo glances between the three of you and not for the first time he wonders how he got himself mixed up with this adventure.

Trolls, trolls you could handle. Being tied up and thrown in a sack, nearly roasted alive and eaten. All of that was palatable. However, being hosted by elves was not. You sit at Elrond’s table and glare down at the vegetables before you.

Elves, you almost scoff as one of them dances by you with a flute. They think they’re so much better than dwarves, so much more sophisticated. You wouldn’t be surprised if they were born with that haughty look on their face.

It’s difficult to have an appetite when you have a rabbit’s dinner in front of you. It’s even harder when you’ve got Elrond’s men glaring holes into the back of your head. None of them trust you. And not because they expect you’re going to rob them. They simply don’t trust your table manners.

A bread roll thunks against your cheek and you grimace. You pick it up, tossing it back at Dwalin and laughing as it knocks his salad into his lap. Well, they might have good reason to doubt your table manners.

You sigh, bored of your meal and tired of all the noise. You stand from the table, slipping away from the others. Thorin catches your eye as you leave, giving you a brief nod farewell. You head down the stairs, toward the pond you saw earlier. Perhaps, while everyone else is eating and arguing with each other, you can cleanse yourself.

It’s been a long while on the road. Scrubbing yourself with rainwater hasn’t exactly done a wonderful job of keeping you clean. You’re used to always being on the move, but you’ve been able to settle down nicely enough in the mountains. It feels a little odd to be adventuring once more.

You can practically smell the elves' magic permeating the air around you. It’s light, it feels like a weight being removed from your shoulders. It tastes like something sweet dancing along your tongue.

As much as you despise Thranduil and his kingdom for abandoning your people, a part of you has to admit that Elrond held no part of that. They did not offer you aid or a place to rest, but he had no reason to. It’s wrong to hold your bitterness against him.

And it does not make a good king to so stubbornly reject Elrond’s help. You worry for Thorin, worry for his sanity when it comes to returning to Erebor. He’s so like his grandfather, it wouldn’t be so difficult for him to succumb to the same sickness Thror had.

You drag your fingers lightly over the marble of the elves' home. It’s impressive, the way the forest manages to grow through their walls. Their architecture is something to be admired, even if it is not as grand as Erebor once was.

You stumble upon the pond and strip out of your clothes. You dive into the pristine waters and are surprised when you feel no chill on your skin. The water is warm and it eases your aching bones. The stress melts away from your tightened muscles. If you weren’t so skeptical, you’d think the water held a magic of its own. Then again, Elrond’s Last Homely House is renowned for the healing capabilities it provides, perhaps it does.

You swim for a while, stretching your limbs and floating along the surface of the water. The sky darkens above you and the stars appear.

The view on the road is always gorgeous and usually left unblanketed by clouds. But this is absolutely breathtaking. You feel as though you could reach up and steal a star for yourself.

You pull yourself onto the shore of the pond and find that your clothes have been taken. A white, gossamer gown hangs on the branch of a tree, and your brows furrow. “Elves,” you hiss with disdain. You wonder which one of the flighty things had left this while you’d been swimming. You’re sure whoever it was got quite the show. You pull the gown on and ponder going back to the others.

You can hear their laughter from here. You know they’ve probably found food that you can actually stomach but you can’t bring yourself to leave the peaceful serenity of the water just yet.

Bilbo does not want to admit that he was looking for you. He simply dismisses the idea as wanting to explore more of Elrond’s home. After all, he’s never gone further than the shire. He’d had the desire to, once, when he was a child. He’d all but abandoned that for the comfort of home.

He can see why he had once wanted to see the elves so badly. The entire place is filled to the brim with magic and people older than the oak trees surrounding the Shire. He seems to be the only one recognizing how truly wonderful this place is. He knows the others all want to leave. He can see how restless they are the longer they stay.

He wonders if you feel the same way. He cannot tell, he finds it harder to read you than he does the others. He doesn’t know if it’s because he’s afraid of thinking of you for too long or if you are simply an enigma to him.

He ascends the stairs, gazing out at the forest and smiling as the breeze brushes against him. Something catches his eye by the glittering waters of the pond and he frowns. He peers further over the railing and spots what must be another elf. They’re surrounded by starlight, basking in the glow of the night. Their beauty is nearly breathtaking.

Imagine his surprise when they turn and it’s you. His eyes widen infinitesimally and he backs away from the rail before you can see him. Why does he keep mistaking you for an elf?

Bilbo finds himself moving before he really thinks about what he’s doing. Your back is to him as you drape yourself along one of the rocks near the shore. Your toes dip slightly into the water and he can just barely hear you humming to yourself.

He’s caught completely off guard by the sight of your hair. Damp and curling, it lay along your back without any braids. It’s the first time he’s seen any of the dwarves without a braid in their hair. He doesn’t have a vast amount of knowledge of your culture, but he feels as though it’s taboo to have your hair unbound like this.

He clears his throat awkwardly and you shoot up in surprise. Your hand drifts to your hip where he’s sure there’s usually a dagger. Tonight, though, you are wholly unarmed. The thought doesn’t seem to bring you much comfort as you narrow your eyes at him.

“Bilbo,” you call out, slightly breathless. “You scared me.”

He gives a strained smile and laughs, taking a hesitant step towards you. You sit up straighter and beckon him closer. He obliges embarrassingly fast, taking a seat beside you at the edge of the pond. He doesn’t even mind as moisture and mud stain his pants.

“What are you doing?” You ask, voice light and tired.

“I was going for a walk,” and wondering where you had gone, he thinks to himself. But that is not something he is ready to admit to you, yet. You’re still practically strangers.

“It’s beautiful here, isn’t it?”

He nods and the question that’s been lingering in his mind slips out. “How do you know Thorin?” You give him a confused look and he quickly adds, “You’re the only woman in the company, I’m only curious.”

“Oh,” you smile slightly and look towards the water. “I believe he’s my distant uncle, possibly a few times removed.” He frowns and you laugh, “The family tree grows a tad confusing. We’d gone through a long list of kings named Durin and the familial relations got hard to keep track of. It’s possible we might not share blood at all. But the dragon had left me orphaned and I was raised alongside Fili and Kili, blood or no, we’re family.”

There’s a faint smile on your face as you speak of the others and it makes a small one form for him. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, “losing your family, it must have been incredibly hard.”

You shake your head, shrugging his apology off. “No need, I was too young to truly remember them. Besides,” you gesture towards the balcony above and you both listen as the others laugh, “I’ve got more than enough now.”

It’s admirable, how loyal you all are to each other. Bilbo’s almost envious of your bond with the others. It’s clear each of you would die for your king, for your home. It’s a dedication and purpose he has never had.

“Do you miss the shire?” You ask, curious and not accusing as Thorin often is. “I imagine life on the road is nothing compared to the comforts of home.”

“Yes,” he answers so quickly it makes you both laugh. Your face lights up when you smile and you smile so little. But when you do, it makes his breath catch. He grows even happier when he’s the reason for it.

“I do miss home. But,” he leans in and you follow, smirking like you’re sharing a secret. “I must admit, adventuring is not as bad as I once thought.”

“Ah,” you lean back, “we’re poisoning you Master Burglar. Soon you’re not going to want to go back.” Well, Bilbo would not go so far as to say that, but you do have a point. The recklessness of the dwarves has seemed to be influencing him, just a tad.

“Well,” he hums and shakes his head slightly. He catches the teasing smile on your lips and doesn’t bother correcting you. “Maybe,” you look a little surprised that he played along and it only makes him more amused.

His eyes drift towards your hair before looking back at you. You give him a self-conscious smile, idly running a hand over the strands. “I took them out to bathe, I didn’t have the energy to rebraid.”

He speaks before he can even think. Perhaps it is the joy of being alone with you that loosens his tongue so foolishly. “I could braid it for you.”

Your eyes widen with shock and you ever-so-slightly flinch back from him. “Do you,” you clear your throat, practically gaping at him. He doesn’t know what about what he just said is so appalling to you but he wishes he’d just never spoken at all. “Do you mean that?”

“Well,” he mutters lowly, “I suppose. Yes,” it sounds more like a question than anything. He can’t help but wonder what he just offered in your culture.

You blink rapidly, pushing your shoulders back and straightening. “Alright,” you whisper and there’s a giddy grin on your lips that he can’t help but be suspicious of. “I’d love it if you would.”

He gets to his feet, moving to stand behind you and idly running his hand through the damp strands of your hair. He doesn’t do many, just enough to keep your hair out of your eyes as you’re on the road. But you seem to get more and more restless with each one he adds.

Finally, when he’s done, he takes a step back and gives you a strained smile. “There you are.”

You get to your feet, running your hand over the braids. “Oh,” your eyes widen as you feel them. “You put quite a few.”

He glances away from you and looks to the tree beside him like might hold the answers to this bizarre encounter. “Was I not meant to?”

You shake your head rapidly and wave him off. “Oh, no, this is wonderful.” You wince and give him a strained smile, “I mean, it’s good. Thank you,” before he can question you on your odd behavior you run off. He watches with a furrowed brow as you rush up the stairs to the dwarves' quarters.

He’s absolutely bewildered as he makes his way up a moment later. He can’t imagine what he could have done to offend you simply by offering to braid your hair. When he makes it to the quarters, he’s not greeted with the rowdy laughter and loud conversation he was expecting.

Instead, the majority of the dwarves are huddled around the fire, whispering lowly amongst themselves. When he walks in each of them turns towards him so quickly he nearly runs back out of the room. He can’t imagine what he could have done to have warranted such odd reactions from both you and the company.

“Er,” he skirts around them, or attempts to at least, “good night.”

“Bilbo,” he clenches his eyes shut, sighing as Thorin calls his name. Whatever he had done, any attempts at escaping the consequences are thrown out the window. He turns towards Thorin who's standing in the corner, away from the others. He waves him forward.

Bilbo feels very much like a child about to be scolded as the others watch him move towards Thorin. Thorin glances towards the others and lets out a heavy sigh. He walks outside and Bilbo follows him down the stairs and back to the path he was on before.

“I doubt you know what you’ve done,” Thorin grumbles bitterly. He looks to Bilbo who only shakes his head. “Braids mean a great deal to us, I don’t imagine they hold much meaning for hobbits.”

“No, they don’t.” Bilbo glances back towards the balcony, and he sees you standing there. The moonlight still shines down upon you and he still can’t fathom that you would ever believe yourself to be anything but beautiful.

“She is young, but she’s not a fool. I’m sure she knows that you didn’t mean anything by giving her courting braids,” Thorin emphasizes the words with a severe look. Bilbo curses his foolishness under his breath. He can’t believe he’s done something so stupid. “Did you?” Thorin asks.

Bilbo shakes his head quickly, “No, of course not. I didn’t-”

“Know,” Thorin finishes for him. “I know. Could you?”

Bilbo looks up at him with a confused scrunch to his face. “Could I�� what?” he asks hesitantly.

“Could you ever care for her like that?” Bilbo goes to answer but Thorin interrupts him before he can. “She’ll never have any luck with her own people, not with the way she looks. If anyone did marry her, it would only be so they could be closer to the king and I don’t want that for her. I’m not asking you to marry her Master burglar, I’m only asking if you’d ever consider it.”

Thorin leaves Bilbo standing right back at the pond. He goes back to join the others and when Bilbo turns to watch him go, you wave at him from the balcony. He considers what Thorin said, and considers how he feels every time you two get a chance to be alone.

He entertains the idea for a moment, but it's foolish. Even if he was truly in love with you, you were two completely different people. You were used to the road, always looking for a new adventure. Bilbo knew he would only ever have one great adventure in his life. His heart would always call him back to the Shire, back to home.

He smiles and waves back at you. He watches you go back inside and he stays by the pond, thinking of what it could be like.

The last time you see Bilbo is at Thorin’s funeral. You’re consumed by your grief and can’t spare him any attention. Three men to be mourned. The last of your true family is dead while another sits the throne that Thorin had earned.

You can’t help but weep over their bodies, can’t help but leave the room so you won’t have to look at them any longer. You run from the procession, and that’s when you see him. Slipping away from everything like a proper thief.

“Bilbo?” You call out, your voice is watery and thick. He lingers by the entrance of the mountain. His shoulders jump to his ears as he tenses at the sound of your voice. He turns back to you, offering you a weak smile. “Leaving?” You question, a weak tease lying somewhere in your tone.

He nods, “I thought it would be better like this.”

“You didn’t think we’d want to say goodbye?” Bofur’s voice echoes behind you. You turn to find the others all standing there, watching as Bilbo tries to leave. You must not have been the only one unable to stomach seeing another wearing the crown.

Dain had fought for you all, he’d come to your aid when you needed him most. He’d earned the title of king. But that didn’t make it an easier pill to swallow.

Bilbo laughs sadly when he sees the rest of the company. You’re sure he thought it would be less painful to simply leave you all. But you needed some sort of closure with him. Even though you’d always known that nothing could ever truly happen between the two of you, you still weren’t ready to let go.

“If any of you are ever passing Bag End,” he pauses, swallowing thickly, “tea is at four. There’s plenty of it.” His gaze drifts towards you and you can’t bring yourself to meet his eye, “You are always welcome.”

You only know he’s gone when you hear his footsteps retreating. Pain and heartache make a coward out of you. You don’t chase him or call out to him as you should. You watch him leave and you let him go.

One Year Later

The clock chimes just half past four and a knock rings out through Bag End. Bilbo frowns, head lifting from the map he’s working on. He pauses and his home remains silent. He shakes his head, dismissing it as a hopeful illusion. Just as he places the quill back on the parchment another rapid set of knocks ring out.

This time it’s persistent. It grates on him as his door rattles from the force. Bilbo huffs, “A moment, please!” He snaps, glaring at whoever lurks behind his door. Another impatient knock and he wonders if it would be wrong to get Sting out of the chest by the door.

He stomps towards the door, grabs the knob, and throws it open, “What-”

He cuts himself off, eyes widening and face going slack with shock as you smile at him. You’re here. You’re here and standing before him and he almost wonders if he’s dreaming of you again.

“Master Bobbins?” You tease, a watery laugh leaving your parted lips.

“What-” he stutters and stumbles over his words, not even sure what to say. He’s barely processed the fact that you’re even here.

You shrug, “I’m sorry I’m so late. I was hoping to get here at four but Bofur had some problems on the road,” you cut yourself off and give him a breathless laugh. “I was hoping you wouldn’t mind if I stayed a while.”

Bilbo can only smile, something thick and choking hanging at the back of his throat. He feels his chest tighten and he shakes his head. “Please,” he breathes out, “stay.”

You grin at him, tears brimming at the corners of your eyes as you take a step inside. “You planted the tree,” you point out, looking toward the sapling growing by his home.

“It reminds me of,” he trails off. It reminds him of everything. Thorin, the adventure, all the friends he’d left behind. You. You nod, not needing words to understand him. “What are you doing here?” He asks, not yet having processed what you’d said.

“I thought it was time for a different adventure,” you tell him, your hand grazing against his as you smile at him. You walk into his home and Bilbo closes the door behind you, already thinking of a million ways your adventure could begin.

#lotr x reader #the hobbit x reader #The company x reader #Bilbo baggins #bilbo baggins x reader #Bilbo baggins imagine #The hobbit imagine #bilbo baggins x you #The company x you

48 notes · View notes

unclewaynemunson · 2 years ago

Text

Pt2 to this post is here 🤗 | AO3 link

When Eddie stumbles out of his room the next day, still half asleep and purposefully headed towards the coffee machine, he notices a crumpled piece of paper on the table. He frowns when he sees it's the note he tossed in the trash a day earlier. It's folded open again, and there's a mysterious, slightly gross looking stain on it, but the number is still clearly readable.

He takes a good few seconds to stare at the digits, written neatly with a blue ballpoint, as if the guy was doing his very best to make sure that none of the numbers would be unreadable. He can't believe that Wayne is invested enough in this to get the note out of the trash for Eddie, even though Eddie already made more than clear how utterly uninterested he is in this Steve person. He shrugs, crumples the note back up again, and tosses it back into the trash.

It goes on like that for a while: every time Eddie wakes up or gets back home, the number is staring at him from the table, only to be crumpled in Eddie's fist again and again and again. Neither Wayne nor Eddie say anything about it; it becomes a tacid game of who can be the most stubborn, and they both know that both of them can keep that up for a very long time. Eddie knows he could just tear it up, or burn it, or poetically bury it at the base of a tree at the edge of the woods outside the trailer. But something's stopping him. It isn't the guy, or even the idea of the guy – he's sure as hell that this Steve wouldn't be for him at all. No, it's the memory of the look on Wayne's face after he gave Eddie the number, all excited and proud of himself. It's the knowledge of how immensely lucky he is to have an uncle like that, who supports him and loves him exactly the way he is, even actively wants him to be happy with another man. It's the flash of disappointment that crossed Wayne's face that first time Eddie made a whole show of throwing the note away. That's the reason he eventually, after almost a whole week of moving the note from trashcan to table and back again, finds himself standing at the phone with the piece of paper in his hand. The note has become truly disgusting by now, with all kinds of unrecognizable smudges on it, but thanks to Steve's clear handwriting, Eddie can still read all the digits.

It doesn't take long before 'Steve Harrington' picks up the horn on the other side.

'Hey, um, this is Eddie,' Eddie says, suddenly feeling awkward about the whole thing and wondering if he should've thought through what he was about to say to Steve. 'You met my uncle at a baseball game, last weekend?'

'Oh!' Steve sounds surprised. 'Eddie! Yeah, yes I did – Wayne, right?'

'Hmhm.'

'I didn't really expect a call anymore, to be honest,' Steve says.

'Yeah, sorry 'bout that,' says Eddie. 'Listen, to be honest, I'm not calling because I actually think this is gonna be something. From what I heard – not to sound like a dick or anything, I'm sure you're perfectly nice and all that – you just, totally don't sound like my type, you know? But my uncle won't drop it, and it'd probably make my life a whole lot easier if I could just prove to him that not every random queer guy he meets is a good match for me, so... Do you wanna meet up for coffee sometime? We can establish what a terrible match we are, I'll pay for your drinks, and then we can move on with our lives without any gnawing guilt or “what if”s playing around in our minds, and we'll never have to think about each other again. How does that sound?'

'Um...' There's a pause of a couple of seconds on the other side of the line, then a small sigh. 'I guess the free coffee sounds good?' It sounds more like a question than a statement, and suddenly, Eddie feels a bit stupid about the whole thing.

'I'm sorry,' he blurts out. 'I totally get it if it's not really what you expected of this. You met my uncle, and I know he's pretty awesome, and, like, wildly attractive and stuff, but if you expect me to be like him – that's not at all what I'm like, you know. So it'll probably be good for both of us to get that out of the way. To establish that we are not at all attracted to each other and happily move on.'

'Yeah, yeah, sure,' says Steve. 'Sounds good. I can't wait to find out what a terrible match you are for me.'

Eddie is relieved to hear the guy softly chuckling.

Pt3 Seriously the response to this silly lil AU has been sooo lovely, thank all of you so much for your kind words and hilarious tags, it made my day 🥹 Altogether the whole thing will probably get to +/-7 parts, so if you feel like that’s a bit much to keep following, please don’t feel awkward about telling me you’d like to be removed from the taglist, I don't wanna spam anyone!

Taglist: @phantypurple @love-kurdt @eddiemunsonswife @mackdaddyofheimlichcountyy @swimmingbirdrunningrock @paintsplatteredandimperfect @stevesbipanic @momotonescreaming @yourebuckingkiddingme @th3-r4t-k1ng @messrs-weasley @moonshadows-13 @im-sam-fucking-winchester @xjessicafaithx @yournowheregirl @henderdads @lwhoscribbles @courtjestermunson @steveisabicon

#yes eddie is an idiot I don't make the rules #don't mind me rambling about stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #wayne munson #steddie #stranger things #fruity ficlet

1K notes · View notes

daycourtofficial · 11 months ago

Text

Everything is Not As it Seems - Part 4

Author’s note: this has taken me waaaay longer than anticipated, but there will be one last part after this one. :)

(Part one) (Part two) (Part three)

“Rhys, I have an idea.”

Working with Rhys and Feyre was the most painful experience of your life. After your talk with Azriel, you decided you needed to do something about your memories before anything can move forward with him. It doesn’t matter how much you want him - you need to make clear distinctions because the fake Azriel and the one that’s here.

Rhys and Feyre were helping you sort through the memories with Eris by changing the Azriel in your memories into the Eris that it actually was. It was a long and embarrassing process, the three of you sorting through a month of memories to alter Eris into his true appearance, but you did it.

Going through it made the two of them even more upset with Eris for his con. Going through the memories, he treated you incredibly kindly and fondly, much like the real Azriel does. They could never fault you for falling for the rouse, especially after seeing how closely Eris matches Azriel’s attitudes toward you.

As hard as it was to show them a month of your life with Eris, they were incredibly kind about your experiences.

Azriel’s first instinct to you coming back was to be able to see you, see what had happened to you. The second thing on his list was to kill Eris. After your interaction where completely bared his soul to you, Azriel decided to take out his frustrations on a certain autumn heir.

You had given Azriel the all clear to seek vengeance on your behalf, never wanting to see Eris again. And vengeance he sought. It didn’t take Azriel long to capture the heir, letting him sit in the dungeons for a few days before properly dealing with him.

After Azriel’s declaration, you decided to write him a letter. You and Rhys had discussed going through and altering your memories, and you decided to reach out to Az. The first letter you wrote reads as:

Dear Az,

I’m sorry things turned out like this. I’m sorry I’m not ready. I wanted you to know that I am trying. Rhys and I are going to start altering my memories in a few days to make my memories more accurately reflect who was in them.

I don’t want to see you until the memories are fixed. I want to see you, but I don’t think it’s a good idea. My brain needs to know that you are you and Eris is Eris.

I’m writing to ask you to wait for me. I don’t know how long this will take, if it will even work, or what the outcome will be, but I am asking you to wait. If you can’t, I understand.

Feel free to write back, seeing as how Eris and I didn’t exchange letters I don’t see this as an issue for communication.

Yours,

(Y/n)

You folded the letter, writing his name on the envelope, and slid it underneath his door the next time you passed his room.

You received his response by the end of the day. It was sitting directly on your bed, right in the middle, most likely placed by a shadow.

You opened the envelope, trying to still your nerves over the contents.

Dearest,

I understand your decision to stay away. It is one neither of us like, but I think for things to continue a distinction has to be made in your mind, so I understand.

Do not apologize for circumstances you did not create. If I could only have you as words on the page, I will devour them every night. I will wait as long as is necessary.

Are you okay with me leaving a few shadows with you? I want to know you’re safe, and selfishly I hope they’ll provide you some comfort in lieu of my presence.

I have to say, I practically melted when you signed your last letter as ‘yours’. I will gladly keep you as mine, for as long as you wish.

Yours, heart, mind, and soul,

Azriel

You had to read the letter several times, committing Azriel’s incredibly neat handwriting into your memory.

Between your back and forth letters with Azriel and your progress with Rhys and Feyre, you’ve begun venturing out of your room more and more.

Every morning Azriel has his letter delivered, along with a schedule for his day. It was an idea he mentioned in his third or fourth letter as a way to ensure you don’t run into him unexpectedly. He’s away in the Day Court, procuring something from Helion for Rhys, and he won’t be back until the end of the day.

The amount of letters you’ve exchanged has gone from a daily letter to at minimum three letters a day. Last Saturday when Azriel had a rare day off from work, he sent you no less than 7 letters, each incredibly well thought out.

You bounded down the steps, planning to spend the day with Feyre at her art studio. Every day you’ve spent an hour or two sorting through memories with Rhys and Feyre, taking Tuesdays off. You appreciate all their help immensely, but you need a day spent not living in the past.

Walking through the dining room you find Rhys enjoying a late breakfast.

“Ah,” he says, putting down his orange juice, “the reason I’m running out of parchment at a pace never before seen.”

He backpedals a bit at your blush, worrying he’s gone a bit far. You don’t want to admit it, but you are a bit more shy these days since returning from Autumn. You’ve slowly been spending less and less time in your room, but it’s still a bit of a safe haven for you.

“I only jest, I assure you. I’m actually quite happy you two have found some way to communicate. Mothers knows he was insufferable the days he had no access to you,” muttering that last part.

You pull out a chair next to him, interested to know more, “insufferable? Azriel?”

Rhys laughs, “believe it or not, yes. He wouldn’t stop bothering me for days. I had to put up mental shields to block out his thoughts.” He laughs, his growing somber as he looks at you.

“Truth be told, when you were gone, we were all a wreck, him especially. We only figured out where you were because Lucien had been to that cabin.” He reaches out, grabbing your hands in his, “I’m glad you’re back, not just because of what you mean to my brother. But because we all love you dearly.”

He pauses, smiling at you, “and maybe because Azriel hardly slept while you were gone, spending the whole time trying to figure out everything he could about the Autumn court. I’m pretty certain he actually snuck into the Forest House at one point.”

You gasp, surprised and amazed he was able to accomplish such a thing. “No way!”

Rhys laughs, “just know that you are a thing of great importance to him. Please, always remember that.”

You laugh, seeing right through your high lord. “Ah yes well thank you for the big brother ‘if you break his heart, there’ll be hell to pay’ speech, Rhys.” You pause, letting him laugh, “but he is also a thing of great importance to me, as evidenced by the events that have led us here.”

He gives you a sad smile. “I wish circumstances were different that brought you two together.”

“Me too,” you sigh, looking at the table. You start thinking about if things were different, how they used to be. How the two of yourself used to dance around your feelings. Now you two write what are practically love letters back and forth.

#acotar fanfiction #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel fluff #azriel angst

212 notes · View notes

bainutwater85 · 5 months ago

Text

prop: you 2 imitate each other no matter what. Denki is always awestruck when you step around him ≧▂≦

notes: you both crush on each other but you think the feelings aren’t reciprocated even tho it’s so obvious to everyone else that you 2 have it out for each other

cw: sweetheart!yn, nervous&awkward denki. y/n has braces!

“y/nn!!” you turn to look behind you, all you seen was you friend in a crowd of people as he excitedly pushed them out the way to get to you. With a warm and cheesy smile you open your arms to hug him! you hadn’t seen him outside of school due to exams and trainings and being busy of course with your job. Engulfing each other in tight hug— he squeezed you hard like you were gonna melt in his arms like puddy; tapping his back to let him know it’s time to let go.

with a smile he hooked his arm around yours and walked you to class. All you could do was smile and feel warm inside, finally seeing the person you know and love the most!.

in class there’s a project, you didn’t need to worry about finding a partner because denki automatically volunteered to be yours ≧ω≦. Talking him through the work and helping with the hard and difficult questions— you could see him staring out your peripheral vision; your cheeks got hot and you started to sweat a bit, palms getting sweaty. “denki, i can see you staring!” you exclaimed softly. he chuckles a bit before responding “that pimples looks ready to be popped..let me pop it!” your jaw dropped and eyes furrowed as you smacked his hand away from your face. “no way!” you pouted while he laughed in your face. Mr. Aizawa standing right behind you two as you go at it.

the you and denki stopped laughing, stopped playing around when you felt and cold presence breathing down your neck. Simultaneously, you and denki both turned just to see the sight of your teacher- glaring you both down. Detention. yeah that SUCKS. it was no better when sero, mina and kirishima were laughing at you both!

the room was still and quiet besides the occasional sound of paper flipping and the squeek of the dry erase marker in the board. You looked quite pissed as denki struggled and groaned at his missing work assignments, which you’ve already completed. You had a choice to read a book or clean and you picked neither. As you were about to lay your head down, a paper ball hit you in the head! you turned around and glared at denki before picking up the paper.

“cOd whEn wE gEt hoMe?” in the most sloppiest handwriting ever. It took you a minute to decipher if his E’s were actually 3’s.

“sure, but that’s only if i don’t get in trouble when i get home! if i do i’m totally blaming this on you >:(“

“ur daD is cool tho >B) he shOulndt grouNd u!”

“yeah maybe.., i’m hungry. you got any snacks pookie?”

Denki reaches in his backpack and gives you a chocolate bar and the rest of his soda pop. You almost foamed at the mouth and thanked him so much before turning around and finishing your 30mins of detention.

30mins later your waiting for denki at the door because he can’t seem to find his airpods. “oh denki! i have them i forgot they were in my pocket” you say while walking out the door, him trailing behind you with a sigh of relief “thank god, i was about to flip out !” chuckling you say “you gave them to me in 2nd period”. As you were about to cross the road off campus, denki grabs your hand and pulls you back “hold on! we have to make sure no cars are coming” he pulls you close to his side putting and arm on your shoulder as cars pass by. “Maybe we should just take the bus?” you suggest “Um, does it look like have bus money y/n” he says sarcastically, laughing. A smile purses across your face; a feeling in your stomach that makes you happier than usual.

He held your hand all the the way to your house until he was about leave to go home himself but got freaked out by the neighbors dog and ran into your arms practically jumping on you “agh! denki!” you yell as he almost knocks you down. “That dog is on a leash! it won’t do nothing to you-“ “AHH i don’t care just open the door ! i’ll have my mom pick me up”

with that you brought him into your house, choking and waiting his mom. When she pulled up into the drive way you walked him out saying your byes and se you layers before he turned around and pressed his lips agaisnt your forhead. never have you smiled so wide, your rubber bands on your braces could little pop off the brackets rn by how hard you were smiling.

#mha #mha x reader #mha headcanons #mha fluff #mha denki #denki kaminari #bnha denki #denki x reader #denki x y/n #denki headcanons #denki fluff #bnha #bnha x reader #bainutwater85

67 notes · View notes

the-letterbox-archives · 4 months ago

Text

archival file 4801805 (tag game)

thank you @corinneglass for the tag!! i loved reading reine's answers to these questions, and i'm so excited to hop on this tag game too! i'll be using sunny for this one, because she has poisoned my brain and i physically cannot think of anyone else.

what uncommon/common fear do they have?

rejection, for sure.

do they have any pet peeves?

people talking over her, but that falls under her ‘i hate annoying people who don’t respect me’ trait.

what are 3 items you can find in their bedroom?

a lot of journals of local gossip/people-watching info, a lot of bandages/bandaids, and pictures of her and darcy (though those are hidden to the point nobody could find them except her or darcy).

what do they notice first in a person?

how they talk. she uses that as an entry to get a read on their general confidence and the rest of their demeanour.

on a scale of 1 to 10, how high is their pain tolerance?

psychologically, very high, about 7-10, if it hasn’t directly happened to her or she didn’t actively witness it; she’s good at relaying news of tragedy to others or hearing about tragedy without getting upset about it. in terms of psychological pain that she actively experiences, i’d put it around a 4. physical pain comes in above average, maybe a 6.5.

do they go into fight or flight mode when under pressure?

neither, i think. i imagine she’s pretty versatile in response, but i doubt she’d ever go straight to fight (she is super weak), so of the two, i’d go with flight. if we extend it to the four responses (fight, flight, freeze, and fawn), i think freeze is most common for her in relation to a situation not exactly initiated by a person, maybe fawn depending on if it’s a certain person that’s related to/causing the pressure.

do they come from a big family/are they a family person?

sunny comes from a very small family, and that actually caused a lot of issues for her. she’s got a complicated relationship to family, so she’s not a family oriented person.

what animal represents them best?

fox, definitely. cute and cunning! or maybe a scorpion, like in the fable.

what is a smell that they dislike?

she’s sensitive to any really strong scent, like something you’d find in a super strong candle store. it’s less so the smell, but the overpowering quality of it.

have they broken any bones?

yes, more than once, both at spencer’s and at home, but a very long time ago.

how would a stranger likely describe them?

a girl with a lot of attitude, in a stuffy private school uniform, but seems wholly out of place where she is, though they can’t quite place why...

are they a night owl or a morning bird?

there are certain circles of girls who stay up to the early hours of the morning studying/gossiping/drinking/etc, and sunny is a proud member of that group. she usually conks out around 2-4am, to get up at 7am for school (though she sleeps until the afternoon on weekends).

what is a flavour they hate and a flavour they love?

loves sweet and sour tastes separately, hates them together.

do they have any hobbies?

journaling and artistic hobbies like nature drawings and embroidery.

boom, surprise birthday party! how do they react to surprises?

a bit surprised, not because she doesn’t expect people to know her birthday (she’s announced it on the show in the past), but because she didn’t except anyone to care. she would feign expectation, like she knew it would happen, then go straight to darcy and ask if she organised this. i think overall sunny would act up the “oh, i knew this would happen, i’m the best haha,” but internally be very taken aback at the display.

do they like to wear jewellery?

only as a symbol of power.

do they have neat or messy handwriting?

doctor-levels of messy.

what are the two emotions they feel the most?

schadenfreude and indifference.

do they have a favourite fabric?

wool knit, especially the blazers and jackets the uniform supplies, though she isn’t particularly picky.

what kind of accent do they have?

she’s american, so it’s a pretty simple 20’s american accent. she’s very good at hiding her accent though, so i imagine during broadcasts she’d use something a bit more transatlantic, and that would slip through into her normal voice.

tagging @introchasingstars, @honeybewrites, @paeliae-occasionally, @ominous-feychild, @the-golden-comet,

@noxxytocin, @moltenwrites, @tc-doherty, @the-ellia-west, @theverumproject,

@thecrazyalchemist, @laylathewordwitch, @dragonedged-if, @leitereads, @autism-purgatory,

@gioiaalbanoart, @drchenquill, @fenmere, @leahnardo-da-veggie, @melpomene-grey,

@yourpenpaldee, @agirlandherquill, @willtheweaver, @nczaversnick,

@davycoquette, @glassfrogforest, @princeofhags, @wyked-ao3, @fantasy-things-and-such, + open tag!

#letters speaks #not a story #sunny finch #tag game #writeblr #writing #writers on tumblr #writing community #creative writing #writers #writerscommunity

20 notes · View notes

slowandsteddie · 1 year ago

Text

It’s three am and I just had the most wonderful idea because I am Awake and missing my grandma something fierce. Aka, woke up crying because I had a dream about her… Anyway.

I’m gonna write a Steddie thing based on my grandparents love story. Because, honestly, it’s a great fucking story and more people need to know it but like… I would feel weird writing about my grandparents.

But, like, imagine if you will, Steve and Eddie taking each other to their respective dates just to make sure that they get there safely. Steve and Eddie picking the other one up to save them from bad dates, whether it’s just boring or they’re actually scared. Steve and Eddie being best friends who grew up next to each other, spending so much time together that people think that they should just date themselves. Steve’s mom commenting, “he always walks you to the door, but never kisses you goodnight. Steve whining, “I know.” A few days later, Eddie saying “we should just cut out the other people, and try going on a date ourselves,” and Steve laughing because he can’t picture them together. No matter how much he wants it. But a few months later, Steve shows up at the garage where Eddie works looking his absolute best, and saying “I’m ready for that date now, big boy.” And Eddie is just covered in grease and oil, an engine spread out on the work bench, asking “Can I shower first?” Only Steve is grinning like a little shit, “nope. Right now, Edward Munson. Or you’ll miss your chance.” And Eddie looks to his boss who tells him, “just this once, love gets to win in my shop. Get the fuck out of here.” Then Steve takes Eddie to the fanciest place that they have in that small town and they get so many dirty looks but neither of them care, they’re having so much fun and falling so in love and both are wondering why it took them so long to get here. That night, Steve finally letting Eddie into his room for the first time in months because he doesn’t have to be ashamed anymore. Tommy had written “Eddie Munson” all over Steve’s ceiling and they have similar handwriting. Eddie noticing and grinning, “so you have liked me this whole time, huh?” And Steve just blushing so pretty while smacking him with a pillow like “Hagen has a crush on you. He brainwashed me into having one, too, because I’ve had to stare at your name for months.” And Eddie just “I should send him flowers,” only to be tackled to the bed where they finally, Finally, fucking kiss.

Anyway, let me know if you wanna read the extended version pls and thanks.

#stranger things #steve harrington #steddie #eddie munson #steve stranger things #eddie stranger things #steve x eddie #steddie fanfiction #a beautiful love story #I am very much going to write this #but would y’all be interested in reading it when it’s ready?#little snippet / summary #taking my grandparents love story and making it Steddie #is something I didn’t realize I needed until I woke up from a dream about my grandma

83 notes · View notes

darl-ingfics · 2 months ago

Text

Sicktember Day 26: ALT - Doctor's Note

Fandom: BTS

Sickie: V/Taehyung (voice loss)

Caregiver(s): Seokjin

Word Count: 643

Note: Short and sweet. Let's crank out the rest of these prompts, shall we?

Due to a duo photoshoot that had been delayed and lasted until the wee hours of the morning, Seokjin and Taehyung had been allowed to show up to practice two hours late the next day. Neither one was complaining about the extra sleep. So Seokjin was surprised to find Taehyung slumped miserably over the kitchen table ten minutes before the car would arrive for them.

“Taehyungie?” Anxiety heightened, Seokjin ran to the younger man, touching his back gently. “What’s wrong?”

Taehyung peeled his head up, revealing a notebook hidden under his arms. He pointed dramatically at the paper: I lost my voice :(

Seokjin frowned, his hand beginning to rub rhythmically up and down Taehyung’s back. “Just today?” A nod. “Does your throat hurt?” Another nod. Seokjin frowned. “Did it hurt yesterday?” Taehyung’s mouth quirked to the side as he shook an open hand: kinda sorta. “Does anything else feel weird?”

Taehyung grabbed the pen laying next to the notebook. No, just the sore throat

“Well that’s probably a good sign. Have you taken anything?”

Taehyung shook his head. We don’t have anything just for sore throats

“What about tea?”

Made some earlier.

“Well I’ll make you more now so you can take it with you. We can also bring the vocal steamer with us. And you should definitely wear a scarf or something to keep your throat warm…”

Stop coddling me

“I’m not coddling. I’m caring about you.”

Well, it’s gross and I hate it

Seokjin laughed, probably against his better judgement, but the gleam in Taehyung’s eyes told him the younger man was enjoying this as much as he was. “Point taken. Less affection for you then.” Taehyung shook his head at the words ‘less affection,’ eyes blowing wide, and Seokjin laughed harder. He wrapped an arm around his dongsaeng’s shoulders. “Just don’t push yourself too hard, okay?”

Taehyung bit his lip as he feverishly scribbled something in his notebook. But aren’t they going to be mad at me if I can’t sing?

Seokjin shook his head. “Hyung’s got that covered, love. Don’t you worry about that.”

Sure enough, when the two vocalists waltzed into the practice room, Taehyung now clinging to Seokjin’s hand, the elder man stepped right to Namjoon with the brightest smile. “Taehyungie’s on vocalist rest today.”

The leader’s eyes moved from Seokjin to Taehyung back to the eldest. “Okay…”

“He has a note.” Seokjin stepped forward, presenting Namjoon ceremonially with a folded slip of paper from his pocket. The leader’s eyebrows furrowed as he opened the paper.

Taehyung must rest his voice today, and everyday after until his throat heals. - Dr. Kim

Namjoon sighed. “Hyung, this is your handwriting.”

“No it’s not…”

“And we don’t have a Dr. Kim on our medical team,” Yoongi pointed out, reading the note over the leader’s shoulder. “Also, I don’t think a real doctor would have drawn a heart in the bottom corner.”

Seokjin huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “First of all, that’s discriminatory against the writing habits of doctors. Second, I’ll have you know that I am the closest thing we have to a doctor in this group.”

“Hyung, dressing up as a doctor in the Dope music video doesn’t count!” Jimin replied. Seokjin mimed smacking him, and Jimin stepped back, arms held up in surrender.

Namjoon sighed again. “Hyung, it’s perfectly fine for Taehyung to put himself on vocal rest. He doesn’t need doctor approval for it. Especially since we’re just in practice right now. Comeback’s not for another month.”

“Well, Taetae was nervous that the higher ups were going to be mad, and I assured him that I would make sure that didn’t happen.”

“By making them more mad at you?” Yoongi asked, only his eyes gleaming jokingly. Jimin and Hoseok snorted, Jungkook outright laughing aloud.

Seokjin narrowed his eyes. “We all know I’m not above it.”

#sicktember 2024 #sicktember #bts sickfic #bts sick #bts fanfic #kpop sickfic #kpop sick #sickie v #caretaker jin #darlingfics

13 notes · View notes

minnie--verse · 3 months ago

Text

Pen Pals -- A Park Sunghoon Fic

!!PART 3!!

(link to pt. 1) // (link to pt. 2)

Summary: You, Ren, are a college student, taking what you thought would be a normal composition class—until you’re assigned a pen pal with your professor’s second class. What happens when you fall for someone you know… but dont?

pairing: sunghoon x f!reader(ren)

genre: strangers to lovers, non idol au, crack, mostly fluff, later chapters to include possible angst//comfort, slow burn.

general warnings: college students!mc, slow burn, love square, swearing, possible adult content in future chapters.

word count: ~6.7k

!!this is not proof read!!

thank u for reading<3

— — —

Sunny,

It’s nice to hear back from you. I have to admit, your letters have become something I look forward to—they’re a break from the routine, a small moment of connection in an otherwise hectic day.

I read your letter about your art final and your friend. It made me think about how different our paths are, yet how they somehow align in these letters. You’re creating things, bringing art to life, while I’m more the type to observe and analyze. My days are mostly filled with reading, writing, and, if I’m lucky, a bit of quiet in between.

You mentioned how your friend keeps you grounded. I get that. My roommate does the same for me. He’s always trying to push me out of my comfort zone, to see the world from a different angle. I guess you could say he keeps things interesting, even if his methods are a bit... unorthodox.

It’s strange, isn’t it? How we’re connected by these letters, yet know so little about each other. But I think that’s part of what makes this interesting. It’s like we’re sharing pieces of ourselves in a way that we might not with people we see every day.

The snowy night I wrote about—there’s something about snow that makes the world feel quiet, almost like it’s pausing to let you catch your breath. I imagine your art might capture that feeling in some way, the way you described working on your final project. There’s beauty in those moments of stillness, don’t you think?

I’d like to hear more about your art and how you see the world through your creations. And of course, anything else you feel like sharing. It’s nice to have someone to write to, even if we’re just pen pals.

Talk to you later, Snow

— — —

You sit in the corner of the bustling cafeteria, the sounds of chatter and clinking cutlery filling the air around you. It’s lunchtime, but the food on your tray remains untouched as you unfold Snow’s letter, your eyes scanning the familiar handwriting. The cafeteria feels miles away as you begin to read.

His words pull you in, and before you know it, you’ve read the letter twice, maybe three times. There’s something about the way he writes, the way he shares these little slices of his life with you, that makes you feel like you’re getting to know him in a way that’s deeper than just surface-level.

You find yourself lingering on the part about his roommate, imagining what this nameless person might be like. From what Snow described, it sounds like he’s the opposite of Snow—more outgoing, maybe a bit of a troublemaker, but someone who’s trying to bring Snow out of his shell. The dynamic feels familiar in a way, reminding you of your own friendship with Callie.

You take a sip of your drink, mulling over the growing interest you have in these exchanges. It’s not just the content of his letters, but the person behind them—someone thoughtful, introspective, and maybe even a little lonely. You can’t help but wonder what he’s like in person, though you know that’s not something you can just ask. There’s an unspoken rule in these letters, a line neither of you has crossed yet.

As you reread his letter, you feel a warmth spread through you, a comfort in knowing that someone out there is taking the time to write to you, to share a part of themselves. It’s something you hadn’t expected when the assignment started, but now, you find yourself looking forward to each new letter, wondering what Snow will say next.

The cafeteria continues to buzz around you, but for a moment, it’s just you and Snow’s words, connecting across a space that feels more like a bridge than a gap. You feel a strange mix of anticipation and contentment as you fold the letter back into its envelope, carefully tucking it away in your bag.

As you finish your lunch, your thoughts drift to what you’ll write in return. There’s a sense of wanting to share more, to keep this connection going, even if it’s just through ink and paper. Snow’s right—there’s something beautiful about the stillness he described, something you might try to capture in your art.

But there’s also something more you want to share, something lighter, maybe even a bit playful. After all, Snow’s letters have become a small, unexpected joy in your life, and you want to reflect that back to him.

You’re lost in your thoughts, Snow’s letter still lingering in your mind as you take a sip of your drink, when you hear a familiar voice—smooth, quiet, and unmistakably him.

“Ren.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you look up, startled. Standing there, just a few feet from your table, is Sunghoon. His dark hair falls slightly into his eyes, and there’s that usual unreadable expression on his face. For a moment, you just blink at him, caught off guard by his sudden appearance.

“Sunghoon,” you manage to say, trying to keep your voice steady as you process the fact that he’s here, in the cafeteria, talking to you. You weren’t expecting to see him again so soon after your library encounter, and definitely not here, now, while you’re still thinking about Snow.

He looks down at the seat across from you, a silent question in his eyes. You nod, and he sits down, placing his tray on the table. He glances at your untouched food, then back at you, his expression still difficult to read.

“You looked… deep in thought,” he says, his voice low and calm. “Something on your mind?”

You feel a slight blush creep up your cheeks as you realize how absorbed you must’ve looked. “Just… a letter,” you say, trying to downplay the significance of it. “I was rereading it.”

Sunghoon raises an eyebrow slightly, his gaze briefly flicking to your bag where you’ve tucked the letter away. “From a friend?”

You glance at the letter, then back at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. “It’s… an assignment for Composition class?”

His eyes widen slightly in recognition, and you can see the wheels turning in his head. “Wait, you’re taking that too? We must be in the opposite classes.”

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued by the coincidence, “Oh really? I didn’t think much of it at first, but it’s actually been kind of nice. How about you?”

Sunghoon nods, taking a bite of his lunch before responding. “Same here. I thought it was just a pointless assignment, but it’s not bad.”

You chuckle, shaking your head as you remember how skeptical you’d been at the start. “Yeah, I was pretty skeptical too. It seemed like just another thing to do for class. But once I started, it was... different. More personal than I thought.”

He smiles, and you can tell he’s on the same page. “Yeah—it’s easier to talk to someone without the physical interaction.”

“There’s definitely something strange about it,” you agree, your thoughts drifting back to Snow’s letter. “Like, you’re sharing these little pieces of yourself with a complete stranger, and it makes you think about things in a different way.”

Sunghoon nods, looking like he’s considering your words. “Yeah. I guess it’s a nice change. I enjoy being anonymous, and waiting to see what she says.”

You find yourself smiling more, feeling a warmth in the conversation. “Exactly. It’s like a little surprise each time. I’ve started looking forward to it, even if it’s just for the sake of curiosity.”

His eyes briefly flicker to the envelope again, but he quickly looks away, not wanting to pry too much. “So, how’s your pen pal’s writing? Do you find it interesting?”

You think about Snow’s eloquent words and how much they’ve resonated with you. “Yeah, it’s actually quite nice. They’ve been really expressive about their thoughts and experiences. It’s refreshing to read.”

He nods, seeming to understand completely. “Mine’s been pretty good too. I think the anonymity of it makes it easier to open up in a way.”

You both share a moment of silent agreement, appreciating the irony of discussing your pen pals while keeping your own identities hidden. The conversation shifts to more mundane topics—classes, weekend plans, and the usual college life chatter—but there’s a subtle undercurrent of something more meaningful beneath it all.

Sunghoon’s gaze drifts around the bustling cafeteria, “People watching? That seems like a fancy way of saying you’re nosy.”

You roll your eyes, “If you wanna be negative about it then yeah, sure. Nosy. I just like to see what people are up to, you know? Decipher their story.”

Sunghoon looks around the room, scanning the diverse crowd. “Okay, let’s start with that group of friends over by the window.”

You follow his gaze and start to analyze the scene. “Yeah, they look like they’re having a great time. The girl in the red sweater is laughing so hard her glasses are slipping down her nose. She’s clearly the life of the party. The guy next to her in the black hoodie seems to be trying to make a joke, but it’s not landing as well—he’s got that ‘awkward but trying’ look.”

Sunghoon chuckles, clearly enjoying the insight. “How about the couple over by the food counter?”

You glance over and see the couple in question. “Oh, them? The guy seems a bit impatient, like he’s waiting for his food to come faster. Meanwhile, the girl is chatting animatedly with the server, probably trying to make a connection or get a special order. It’s like they’re in their own little world, and he’s just trying to keep up.”

Sunghoon nods, clearly impressed with your detailed observations. “That’s pretty spot-on. What about them, huddled around a laptop?”

You look over and analyze the situation. “They’re working on a group project, I’d say. The girl in the blue scarf seems to be the one taking charge, pointing at the screen with a lot of enthusiasm. The guy next to her is nodding along, but he looks a bit overwhelmed. He’s probably trying to keep up with all the ideas being thrown around

Sunghoon raises an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the process. “I didn’t realize how much you could pick up from just observing. It’s like you’re seeing a whole story unfold without them even knowing you.”

You smile, enjoying the shared activity. “Exactly. It’s fascinating to see how people interact and what little details tell you about their mood or situation. It’s almost like creating a narrative from real life.”

Sunghoon looks at you with an impressed smirk, “You’re an expert at being nosy then, huh?.”

You nod in agreement, feeling a sense of satisfaction in sharing this part of yourself. “Yeah, it’s a bit like that. It’s also nice to share it with someone who’s genuinely interested. Makes it even more enjoyable

Sunghoon’s eyes wander around the room again, clearly more engaged in the activity now. “So, do you usually come to the cafeteria to people-watch, or is this a special occasion?”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “Oh, it’s a regular thing for me. The cafeteria is one of the best spots for it. Lots of different people and interactions to observe.”

You find yourself lingering on Sunghoon’s face for a moment longer than you intend. There’s something about the way he quietly observes the room, his dark eyes taking everything in with a calm, almost unreadable expression. He’s hard to read, but there’s a depth to him that intrigues you.

You quickly glance back down at your finished plate, hoping he didn’t notice you staring. But as the silence stretches, you feel his eyes on you. Sunghoon clears his throat, his voice a little hesitant. “So, uh… what do you see when you look at me? I mean, you’re good at this observing thing, right?”

You freeze, your heart skipping a beat at his question. You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks as you try to gather your thoughts, suddenly aware of how close you two are sitting. “Oh, um… well, I guess…”

You look up at him, meeting his gaze, and the words tumble out before you can stop them. “Your eyes… they’re really… intense. But not in a scary way. More like… there’s a lot going on behind them, but you don’t really let it show. It’s like… you’re watching the world, but keeping your thoughts to yourself. It’s… I don’t know, they have some kind of mysterious pull to them.”

Sunghoon blinks, clearly caught off guard by your answer. His expression softens, and for a moment, he looks almost vulnerable. “Mysterious, huh? I’ve never thought of myself that way.”

You fumble for words—that was fucking weird, Ren—you think, scrambling to fix your words. “I-I mean, not in a bad way! It’s just… you have this kind of… stoic presence, but your eyes say a lot more than you let on. It’s like there’s a whole other side to you that most people don’t see.”

Sunghoon looks down, a faint smile playing on his lips, his cheeks tinged with a slight flush.

You nod, feeling the awkwardness of your own words but also a strange sense of connection. “Sorry that wasn’t what you meant and I am… fucking weird now, huh?”

He looks back at you, his gaze softening. “No, no, no—“ He laughs gently and shakes his head, “It’s… actually kind of nice. I appreciate it, Ren.”

As you both settle in Sunghoon’s apartment, the storm still raging outside, Sunghoon suddenly looks at you with a mix of nervousness and determination. “You know, I’ve been meaning to tell you why I couldn’t say anything when we bumped into each other at the park. I was just… kind of enthralled by how pretty you were.”

He shakes his head, a slight flush still coloring his cheeks. “I know that sounds a bit stupid, but it’s the truth. I was too caught off guard to say anything, so I probably just looked broody.”

You feel your face heat up at his confession, but you can’t help but laugh a little, shaking your head. “Honestly, I just thought you were kind of an asshole. Like, you just bumped into me and then stared me down. I had no idea you were, you know… stunned or whatever.”

Sunghoon’s eyes widen, and he looks immediately embarrassed, running a hand through his hair awkwardly. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to come off that way. I really wasn’t trying to be a jerk. I just… didn’t know how to react.”

You laugh again, but this time more warmly, seeing how flustered he is. “It’s okay, really. I guess we both misread the situation. I’m glad we got that cleared up.”

Sunghoon nods, still looking a bit embarrassed, but he manages a sheepish smile. “Yeah, me too. I guess I need to work on my reactions a bit. Sorry again for giving off the wrong vibe.”

You wave it off, feeling the tension ease as you smile at him. “No harm done. It’s kind of funny, actually, now that we’re talking about it.”

Sunghoon chuckles, the embarrassment starting to fade. “Yeah, I guess it is. I’m really glad we’re getting to know each other better now, though.”

“Well, now that we’ve both embarrassed ourselves—“ You laugh before a sigh escapes you and you lean back against the booth seat you were in.

Callie was right—which was something you didn’t like to admit very often—but maybe Sunghoon was something you could chase after.

— — —

Snow,

Your last letter caught me off guard—in a good way. It’s not every day someone asks about my life outside of school or my perspective on the world as an artist. It made me realize how rare it is to have someone actually care about those things. So, thank you for that.

Where do I start? Outside of school, I guess I’m pretty much the same person. Art isn’t just something I study—it’s how I see the world. I know that might sound cliché, but it’s true. When I walk through campus, or sit in a coffee shop, or even just people-watch from a bench, I’m always noticing the little details that others might overlook. The way the light hits someone’s hair, the shadows that play on the ground, the fleeting expressions on people’s faces as they pass by. It’s like everything is a potential piece of art, even the most mundane moments. I think that’s why I love being an artist so much. It’s like I have this secret lens that lets me see the beauty in everything, even when the world feels overwhelming.

But that’s not to say it’s always easy. There are days when I feel like I’m carrying the weight of everything I see. It’s like I’m constantly trying to capture moments, to hold onto them before they slip away, but sometimes it’s exhausting. There’s so much emotion in the world, and it can be overwhelming to try and process it all. I guess that’s why I retreat into my art. It’s my way of making sense of everything, of turning the chaos into something tangible.

Outside of that, I’m just a normal college student, trying to navigate life and figure out who I am. I have my close friends, like Callie, who keep me grounded. She’s the type of person who can make me laugh even when I’m stressed out of my mind, which is more often than I’d like to admit. We balance each other out, I think. She’s practical and a bit of a realist, while I’m the one with my head in the clouds, always dreaming and creating. It’s a good dynamic, and I’m grateful to have her in my life.

But enough about me—how about you? You’ve been so thoughtful in your letters, but I feel like I don’t know much about you yet. What do you see when you look at the world? What’s your perspective on life? I’d love to hear more about what makes you, well… you.

Talk to you later—Sunny

— — —

Your days have settled into a comfortable rhythm, a mix of classes, painting, and the occasional coffee break with Callie. Mornings start with you groggily pulling yourself out of bed, the faint light of dawn filtering through your curtains as you get ready for another day of classes. You make sure to grab breakfast, a habit Callie has drilled into you after too many mornings of skipped meals. Then it's off to campus, where you navigate the familiar paths with a sense of routine, waving to acquaintances and exchanging quick hellos with classmates.

Your classes keep you busy—lectures, assignments, and the constant pressure of upcoming exams. But amidst the academic grind, there's a part of your day you look forward to the most: those moments you spend in the library. It started with that first meeting, an accidental collision of schedules and a shared space, but now it’s become something more intentional.

You’ve found yourself meeting Sunghoon regularly in the library, often in that same reserved room where you first actually talked. It’s a quiet, tucked-away corner of campus where you both can focus on your work but also where conversation flows easily between the two of you. At first, it was just studying side by side, exchanging the occasional word or glance, but soon you started talking more—about classes, about life, about the things that matter to you both.

There’s a comfort in his presence, a steadiness that you hadn’t expected from someone who seemed so closed off at first. He listens when you speak, really listens, and when he shares something about himself, it feels like he’s letting you into a part of his world that few others see. The more time you spend together, the more you realize how much you enjoy his company, how much you’ve come to look forward to these meetings.

He’s still a man of few words, but when he does speak, there’s a thoughtfulness to it that you’ve come to appreciate. Sometimes, you catch yourself smiling at something he says, or at the way he looks at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention. And sometimes, when he’s focused on his work, you let yourself wonder what he’s thinking, what he’s feeling. It’s a strange kind of closeness that’s developed between you two, one that feels both new and familiar at the same time.

And then there are the little things—the way he’ll bring you a coffee if he knows you’ve had a rough day, or the way you’ve started sharing music recommendations, discovering you have more in common than you initially thought. There’s a warmth to your interactions now, a quiet understanding that seems to have grown naturally out of these moments spent together.

You can’t quite put your finger on when it happened, but somewhere along the way, Sunghoon became more than just someone you ran into on campus. He became someone you genuinely care about, someone whose presence you crave more often when you had to wait for another letter. And as you sit across from him in that familiar library room, you find yourself wondering what this connection means, where it might lead, and how much closer the two of you might become.

— — —

Sunny,

I have to admit, after reading your last letter, I found myself looking at the world a little differently. It’s like your words opened up something in me, made me see the beauty in the details that I usually overlook. I guess I never realized how much there is to notice when you really pay attention.

Like yesterday, I was walking through campus, and I saw the way the sunlight filtered through the trees, casting these long, golden shadows on the ground. The leaves were swaying just enough to make the light dance. It reminded me of the sunny day you talked about in your first letter and then I thought, ‘Sunny would probably paint this,’ Or the way the raindrops gather on the window after a storm, reflecting the outside world in those tiny little beads of water. It’s like the whole world is contained in those drops, you know? I don’t think I’ve ever noticed those things before, not really. But now, it’s all I can see.

I guess what I’m trying to say is, your perspective has kind of... consumed my thoughts. I find myself thinking about what you’d make of the things I see every day—how you’d capture the way a moment feels, or how you’d turn something simple into something profound. It’s like you’ve given me a new lens to look through, and I’m really grateful for that.

Honestly, I’m finding it hard not to think about you every day now. It’s strange, isn’t it? We’ve never even met, but I feel like you’re everywhere. Like, every time I notice something beautiful, you’re the first person I want to tell about it. I’m not sure what that means, but I thought you should know.

Anyway, I hope you’re doing well. I’d love to hear more about what you’ve been painting lately—if you’re comfortable sharing, that is. And if there’s anything else on your mind, I’m all ears.

Talk to you later—Snow

— — —

Over the past few weeks, Sunghoon had found himself thinking about Ren more and more. It wasn’t just the time they spent together in the library that lingered in his mind, but the little details of her that had started to etch themselves into his memory. The way her eyes would light up when she talked about something she was passionate about, or how her lips would curl into a soft, almost shy smile whenever he complimented her. He had memorized the way she absentmindedly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear while she studied, or how her eyebrows furrowed in concentration as she worked on her assignments. And then there was her laugh—so genuine and infectious that it never failed to make him smile, even on his worst days.

Sunghoon didn’t know when it happened, but Ren had become someone he looked forward to seeing, someone who made him feel understood in a way that was rare for him. There was an ease to their connection that he hadn’t experienced before, a natural rhythm that made their time together feel effortless and comforting. She was someone who could bring out a side of him that he usually kept hidden, and he found himself wanting to share more and more of himself with her.

But then there was Sunny.

Sunny, the anonymous pen pal who had captured his thoughts and inspired his imagination in ways he hadn’t anticipated. Their letters had started off as just another assignment, something he hadn’t expected to matter. But now, every letter from Sunny was something he eagerly awaited. Her words painted vivid pictures in his mind, and he found himself longing to know more about the person behind them. What did she look like when she painted? What emotions played across her face as she captured the world on her canvas? What other poetic visions would she impart next?

The more he read her letters, the more he felt like he was getting a glimpse into her soul, and it was intoxicating. He wanted to know everything about her—her thoughts, her dreams, the way she saw the world. He had even begun to wonder if she might be someone he already knew, someone who had been right in front of him all along. But then, there was Ren, and that complicated things. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being unfair to both of them—this girl he was growing closer to in person, and this mystery pen pal who occupied his thoughts.

Sunghoon found himself caught between two worlds: the real, tangible connection he had with Ren, and the deep, almost ethereal bond he felt with Sunny. And with each passing day, the desire to bridge that gap, to know who Sunny really was, grew stronger. He wanted to understand the person behind the letters, to see if the connection he felt with her words could translate into something real. But as much as he longed to uncover Sunny’s identity, he also feared what that might mean—for him, for Ren, and for whatever delicate balance he had somehow found between the two.

— — —

Snow,

Your last letter made me smile. It’s funny how we’ve never met, yet I feel like you somehow understand how I see the world. When you described the sunlight filtering through the trees and the raindrops on the window, it was like you were speaking my language. It’s incredible how something so simple can become so beautiful when you take the time to notice it, don’t you think?

I’ve been painting a lot lately. After reading your letter about the snowy night, I couldn’t get the image out of my head. There was something so vivid in the way you described it—the quiet, the stillness, the way the world seemed to pause under that blanket of snow. It was like I could feel the cold air on my skin and hear the crunch of the snow beneath my feet, even though I wasn’t there. So, I decided to paint it. I wanted to capture that moment, the way you saw it, and try to put that feeling on canvas.

It wasn’t easy. I think I’ve repainted the sky about a dozen times, trying to get the right shade of twilight, that moment just before the night fully takes over. I wanted the snow to look soft, almost like a memory, with just enough light to see your breath in the air. And the trees... I think they were the hardest part. I wanted them to look both strong and delicate, like they were standing guard over this perfect, fleeting moment in time. I don’t know if I got it exactly right, but I hope it comes close to what you saw that night.

It’s strange, but painting your snow night made me feel closer to you, like I was sharing in that moment with you even though we’re miles apart. It made me realize how much I look forward to your letters, how much they make me think and feel. I’ve found myself wondering what you’re doing at random times during the day, or how you’d describe the things I see. It’s like your words have found a way into my thoughts, and I’m not sure how to explain it, but it’s kind of wonderful.

I’m curious, though—do you ever feel that way about my letters? I mean, do you find yourself thinking about what I’ve written or imagining what I might say next? I guess I’m just wondering if this connection is as real for you as it feels for me.

I’d love to hear more about what you’ve been seeing lately, what moments have caught your eye. Maybe they’ll inspire my next painting. And if there’s anything you’re curious about, don’t hesitate to ask. I’m more than happy to share my world with you, piece by piece.

Talk to you later—Sunny.

— — —

You and Sunghoon are sprawled out on the floor of his apartment, the room echoing with your laughter and playful banter. You’re in the middle of a mock wrestling match, both of you grinning like fools as you try to outmaneuver each other. Sunghoon manages to pin you down for a moment, and you let out a loud, exaggerated laugh of defeat.

As the laughter dies down, you both lie there catching your breath, the playful energy giving way to a more relaxed atmosphere. You looked up at him as he held your arms down, his roommate Jake giving the dramatic announcement of Sunghoon’s pin as if it was WWE. Your chest rose and fell with a stagnant smile on your faces, Sunghoon still chuckling softly as he looked down at you. For a brief moment, the world seems to slow down, and you find yourself watching him with a sense of wonder.

His dark hair is a bit tousled from all the antics, and there’s a light sheen of sweat on his forehead that makes him look somehow more... real. The way the light from the lamp casts a soft glow on his face, and the way his lips curve into a relaxed smile—it’s all strikingly attractive. You hadn’t really noticed before, but now, it’s as if you’re seeing him for the first time, in a way that makes your heart skip a beat.

You shift your gaze slightly, trying to process what you’re feeling. This isn’t just about appreciating his looks; it’s something deeper, a fluttering sensation in your chest that you can’t quite ignore. You think about the way he listens to you, the way he makes you laugh, and how easy it feels to be around him. There’s a warmth and familiarity that you didn’t expect, but that you’ve come to cherish.

And then, like an unwelcome intrusion, your thoughts drift to Snow. The mysterious pen pal who had captured your imagination with his poetic letters. You remember his descriptions of snowy nights and the way he made you see the world through his eyes. It’s been a constant presence in your mind, a subtle, persistent reminder of another connection that feels just as intense, albeit in a different way.

The contrast between the two is jarring. Sunghoon’s presence is immediate and real, filled with tangible moments and shared laughter. Snow’s presence is ethereal and distant, yet equally compelling, with each letter adding another layer to the intrigue. The two are starting to feel like they’re vying for space in your thoughts and emotions.

You find yourself torn, caught between the easy, tangible connection you’re building with Sunghoon and the poetic, almost dreamlike allure of Snow. It’s confusing, trying to reconcile these two parts of your life and figure out what you truly want. As you look back at Sunghoon, you realize how much you enjoy his company, how much you’re drawn to him, yet Snow’s influence remains a significant part of your emotional landscape.

You let out a soft sigh, trying to clear the fog of conflicting feelings from your mind. Sunghoon lifts a brow and catches your gaze, giving you a curious look.

“You alright, Ren?” he asks, his voice warm and genuine.

You offer him a small, distracted smile, trying to hide the whirlwind of emotions inside. “Yeah, yeah. Just thinking.”

Sunghoon nods, giving you a reassuring smile. “Well, if you need to talk, I’m here.”

You nod, appreciating the offer. “Thanks, Hoon… I appreciate it.”

As the evening continues, you try to focus on the present, enjoying the time with Sunghoon while grappling with the complexities of your feelings for both him and Snow. It’s a balancing act you’re not entirely sure how to manage, but for now, you’re determined to savor the moments you have with Sunghoon and let the rest sort itself out in time.

— — —

Sunny,

Your letter brought a smile to my face and warmth to my heart. I was genuinely touched to hear that my description of the snowy night inspired your painting. It’s incredible to think that my words could be transformed into something so beautiful and tangible. I can almost see the scene through your eyes, and it makes me feel as though I’ve been there with you, experiencing it all over again. I hope to see it one day.

I’ve found myself constantly thinking about you and your letters. It’s a strange but wonderful feeling, knowing that someone out there is visualizing the world through such a creative and thoughtful lens. It’s like your perspective has woven itself into my daily thoughts, and I can’t help but wonder about the details of your life, the moments that inspire you to create. Your words have become a significant part of my routine, and I often catch myself daydreaming about what you might describe next.

There’s a warmth in knowing that our correspondence has become such a meaningful part of our lives. I’m always eager to read what you’ve written, to find out what new insights or observations you’ll share. It’s almost as if your letters have a way of drawing me in, making me feel connected to you in a way that’s both surprising and comforting.

I have to admit, there’s something more profound than just admiration growing within me. I’ve started to realize how deeply I’m falling for your words, for the way you express yourself so beautifully and thoughtfully. It’s as though each letter reveals another layer of who you are, and I’m captivated by the depth and sincerity of your reflections.

I’m curious to know more about you—your inspirations, your dreams, and the things that move you. If you’re comfortable sharing, I’d love to hear about what drives you to paint, or about the moments that make you pause and reflect. Your letters have become a source of light in my life, and I fall harder with every word you share.

Talk to you later—Snow

— — —

You’re pacing back and forth in the living room, your mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. You’ve been wrestling with your feelings for both Sunghoon and Snow, and it’s starting to drive you a bit mad. You finally collapse onto the couch next to Callie, who is lounging with a stack of notes from Snow spread out in front of her.

"Callie, I need help," you say, your voice tinged with frustration. You’re sprawled out on the couch in your apartment, the remnants of Snow’s letters scattered around you like a chaotic love confetti. Callie is sitting next to you, munching on a snack bowl of pretzels and clearly enjoying the show as you have a mini-meltdown over your feelings for both Snow and Sunghoon.

“Snow’s words are like this beautiful, poetic storm that’s taking over my mind, and then there’s Sunghoon, who’s right here, making me feel seen and loved in a completely different way. How am I supposed to choose between these two worlds?” You bury your face in you’re hands and groan.

Callie raises an eyebrow and picks up one of Snow’s letters, glancing at it with a smirk. “Okay, let’s break this down. So, Snow is basically a walking, talking poem who understands your soul from a distance, and Sunghoon is a real-life guy who makes you laugh and look at you like you’re the only person in the room. Got it.”

“Exactly!” you say, waving your hands around dramatically. “Snow’s letters are this perfect mix of art and mystery. I mean, he’s on campus somewhere, and I don’t even know what he looks like! And then Sunghoon... he’s here, being all cute and attentive, and it’s like I’m falling for him just as much. It’s a mess!”

Callie chuckles and picks up another letter, reading it with exaggerated enthusiasm. “‘Your letters have become a source of light in my life, and I fall harder with every word you share.’ Ugh, Snow, you charmer. And here’s Sunghoon, who knows the way you take your coffee and gives you his coat when you’re cold like a rom-com.”

You groan and flop back against the couch cushions. “I know, right? It’s just that Snow’s letters make me feel like I’m part of this beautiful, poetic world, while Sunghoon’s presence makes everything feel so real and tangible. How do I even begin to balance that?”

Callie puts down the letter and gives you a sympathetic look. “Listen, you don’t have to choose right this second. Snow’s words are wonderful, but they’re just a glimpse into a world that’s still shrouded in mystery. Sunghoon is right here, making you laugh and enjoy life. Maybe the real answer is that you need both worlds for now.”

You sit up, considering her words. “That’s... not the worst idea. But it feels so complicated.”

Callie leans back with a grin. “Complicated is just a fancy word for ‘interesting.’ If you’re enjoying both, then why stress? Snow’s poetry isn’t going anywhere, and Sunghoon’s not going to vanish. Take your time to figure it out.”

— — —

Dear Snow,

I was so touched by your last letter, and I felt compelled to write back and share something with you. I’ve been thinking a lot about how you expressed your feelings, and I realized something incredibly beautiful. Even though you’ve never seen any of my paintings, you seem to understand them so well, as if you’ve seen them in your own way. It’s like you’ve been looking at the same world through my eyes.

Your words have a way of making me feel like you truly see me, and it’s more than just knowing my thoughts or my feelings—it’s as if you’ve grasped the essence of what I try to capture on canvas. When I painted my vision of your snowy night, it wasn’t just about recreating the scene you described. It was about expressing how your words made me feel, how they painted a picture in my mind that felt so vivid and real.

Falling for you, Snow, has been like discovering a new color in my palette—one that resonates deeply with my own heart. The way you describe things, the way you make me think about the world in new ways, it’s all become a part of me. You’ve made me realize that sometimes the connection we build through words can be even more profound than anything we could see or touch.

I can’t wait to continue exploring this journey with you, sharing more of our worlds through our letters, and discovering where this connection takes us. You’ve made me feel seen and understood in a way I didn’t think was possible. Thank you for being such an important part of my life, even from afar.

Talk to you later— Love, Sunny

— — —

Sunghoon burst through the door of his apartment, his face flushed with excitement. He had just received Sunny’s latest letter, and the warmth of her words had him practically skipping with joy. His thoughts were a whirlwind of how perfectly their feelings seemed to align, and he was eager to share his enthusiasm with Jake.

As he walked into his room, he noticed something lying on his bed. It was the jacket Ren had borrowed from him. Sunghoon’s heart skipped a beat. He remembered that Ren had returned it today and briefly wondered if there was anything inside the pockets.

He reached into one of the coat pockets and felt a small, folded piece of paper. Curiosity piqued, he pulled it out and unfolded it, revealing a neatly written note in neat… purple… ink.

— — —

Thank you for the jacket.

—Ren

— — —

ending note —

hehehe!! promised part three!! I’m really enjoying this prompt so I’m literally pumping these out as fast as I can bc even I’m excited for what happens next.

I love you and thank you for reading my little corner of tumblr<3

#college au #college au sunghoon #enha #enha fic #enha sunghoon #enha sunghoon fic #enhypen #enhypen college au #enhypen fic #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen park sunghoon #enha park sunghoon #enha park sunghoon fic #enhypen park sunghoon fic

8 notes · View notes

and-claudia · 2 years ago

Text

His Heir pt. 30 (Darth Maul x pregnant! reader)

Warnings: mentions of being sick

Word count: 2301

Taglist Sign Up

Masterlist

After returning from Mandalore, Maul suggested that I take a couple of days off to rest before returning to work. I ended up just asking him if I could have the rest of the week off, to which he obviously agreed. I was just trying to process everything still. It was still strange to know that now, despite the fact I hadn’t considered her my sister for many years that my ties with Bo-Katan were officially severed.

Currently, I was sitting in the small office Maul had in his quarters. There were a few sheets of loose flimsy scattered across the desk with different names written on them. I was practicing in order to update the book and wanted to make sure my handwriting was perfect. I have spent so many years using my datapad that my penmanship had suffered.

“Yn?” I heard Maul call through his quarters.

His voice startled me. It had been so quiet for so long and I had been focussing so hard that I wasn’t expecting him to be home so soon. Sure enough though, when I check the chrono on the wall it was just about time for him to be home.

“I’m in your office!” I hollered back.

I could hear his footsteps approaching before he stopped outside the door.

“May I come in?”

“Of course.”

The door slid open with a small hiss and he stepped inside.

“I didn’t expect you to be in here. And not to say that you can’t be in here, but may I ask what you are doing?” He asked, peering over at my flimsy sheets.

“I am trying to make sure my handwriting looks okay before I write in the book. I want to make sure it looks perfect.” I said.

“May I look?” He asked reaching for a few of the papers.

I nodded and he grabbed a few of the pages and began to inspect them. He flipped through a few before he stopped and did a double take at one of them.

“Who is Korkie Kenobi?” He asked, squinting at the name as if he may have read it wrong.

“That is my nephew.” I said simply, waiting to gauge his reaction.

“And is it Kenobi as in…” He trailed off.

I nodded, “Yes it is Kenobi as in Obi-Wan Kenobi… neither of them has any idea about the other though. As far as Obi-Wan knew, Korkie was our nephew. Which, if you ask me, is suspicious considering he was Satine’s, Bo-Katan’s, and my nephew… we were the only three children of Satine’s and Bo-Katan’s parents so how could we all have the same nephew? One of us had to have been his mother. I knew no one in the public would believe us. Especially since Satine disappeared for a year and a half and then suddenly when she returns we have a nephew… Anyways as far as Korkie knows, his last name is Kryze.”

“Hm.” Maul said in thought.

“Korkie has nothing to do with Kenobi, I promise.” I said worrying that he may be thinking about his involvement with him.

“I have no doubt about that. I was just thinking… it’s funny in a way I suppose. A few years ago I would have been thinking about how to use this child against Kenobi, but now I feel a bit… sorry, I think, for the boy. It’s hard growing up, not knowing who you are. With the Jedi gone, there’s no way for him to meet his father. Don’t get me wrong, I loath Kenobi, but as you said this boy would have had nothing to do with him.” He was silent for a brief moment, “Do you know where Korkie is now? Is he taken care of?”

“I can only assume, I haven’t spoken to him in many years. I hope he’s doing well.” I replied truthfully.

Maul nodded, “Should you ever be in contact with him again, let him know that he has family here on Dathomir. He would be safe and protected here.” He said.

I was taken aback by his words. I had definitely seen a much softer side of Maul since I got pregnant but this was a whole new level of caring from him that I had never experienced.

I nodded, “I will. I will.”

When I returned to work I was surprised to find that the majority of the banquet to announce that we were having a boy was already mostly planned. My first task of the day was to review some of the decisions already made.

I was sitting in a meeting with Maul and Dasar who was there on the hologram in the center of the table.

“Did you really pull this poor man away from his wedding planning to help with this?” I asked Maul.

“Yn,” the man in question began, “If I’ve said it once, I swear I’ve said it a million times. This baby is the biggest event of Crimson Dawn. I am honored that Lord Maul asked me to help plan it. It also has given me a break from Totin. I love the man, obviously, I mean I’m marrying him in 4 weeks, but boy does he drive me crazy sometimes.”

I laughed at his comment. I understood the feeling.

“Well, I’m grateful for your help. I guess let's get started.” I said.

“Here it’s all been put onto this datapad.” Maul said, leaning across the table to hand it to me.

I took it and my eyes locked in on the first entry:

Guest will dress in accordance to what they think the baby is: Pink for a Girl, Blue for a boy.

I sighed and set down the device on the table. My eyebrow raised in question at Maul as I leaned back in the chair, folding my hands on top of my belly.

“I hate that. So much.” I said, still looking at Maul.

While I looked at him, he looked at Dasar and Dasar looked back at me.

“I told you she’d hate it.” Maul said to Dasar.

“Mhm. Fine, you were right.” Dasar said.

Neither of them were being rude, more so just sassy with the way that they said it.

“Do you hate the concept or just the color choices?” Maul asked, turning to me.

“Just the colors.” I began, “I love the concept. I think it’s very cute, ooh… wait! So I don’t want some big over-the-top reveal. SO, what if the reveal is just something simple? Like Maul and I can make our grand entrance and the color that we are wearing is the announcement. I’m just not wearing something baby blue or baby pink, that’s just not my vibe, and it’s definitely not Maul’s vibes.” I said with a laugh.

“I don’t know, I’d paid a lot of credits to see Maul in one of his tunics but have it be a nice pastel pink.” Dasar said as we both laughed at the mental image it gave. Maul just shook his head in amusement.

“What color would you prefer us to do? Red and black?” Dasar asked once he had stopped laughing

“No, that seems a bit too predictable from us. How about… navy and burgundy?” I asked.

“I like it.” Maul agreed.

“Yn, that… that’s literally just dark blue and dark pink.” He said dramatically.

“No…” I hesitated as I thought about it a bit more, “I mean technically you can look at it that way, I guess.”

Once the laughter died down I picked back up the datapad to review the rest of the plans. The guest list was fairly small.

“Only the leading members are physically invited, and since this is such a big deal, attendance is mandatory. The reveal itself will be broadcasted to everyone else.” Maul explained and I nodded along.

We had discussed this some already. I really didn’t want everyone being here since it would bring in so many germs and stuff. I wasn’t scared of germs per se, but being pregnant made me much more aware of them and their risks.

“What else is there to discuss?” I asked.

“Well, there’s still the Mayer of the food. I was thinking that instead of doing a full sit-down meal and everything like that, it may be better to just do hors d'oeuvre. We can have the service droids go around with trays and just do that instead of trying to prepare a full 3-course minimum meal for everyone.” Maul said.

“I think that sounds great. I do just request that we avoid anything with blue milk in it…” I said, slightly shuttering at the mention of it.

“Of course. I will make sure that happens. No blue milk.” Maul quickly agreed.

“What’s wrong with blue milk? We use it all the time here.” Dasar said.

“We use it quite frequently here as well… or we did. Yn was making a snack a few days ago and poured herself a glass of it… let's just say her snack went uneaten.” Maul said clearly trying to leave out the details and spare me the embarrassment.

“I never even noticed a smell on it. But for some reason when I took it out, it smelt so bad. It instantly made me nauseous. I think that is the sickest I have ever been. Maul was still working I had to com him to come help me.” I added.

“Was it out of date or something?” Dasar asked.

I shook my head along with Maul, “I even checked it.” Maul said.

“Let’s move on before I relive it.” I said. Just talking about it was making that nausea creep back up.

“How formal are you wanting the guest to dress?”

“Standard formal banquet attire. Just as we normally do.” I answered before turning to Maul, “I already know what you’re going to be wearing.”

He scoffed, “I am fully capable of picking out my own attire, dear.”

“I know you are. But considering this whole banquet wouldn’t be happening if it wasn’t for me I think you should wear what I want you to wear.” I shot back.

“She has a point.” Dasar said.

Maul just shook his head in amusement, “She always uses that now. Anytime she wants or needs something of me she’ll always pull the whole ‘I’m the one carrying your child’ card. She thinks that by saying that I’ll cave to whatever she wants.”

“Well, it works does it not?” I asked.

He stayed silent.

“Exactly.”

“Okay, so Dasar is going to come in a few days before the banquet to oversee the setup of everything since I am beginning to have Qi’ra take on more responsibilities to prepare for once the baby is here. And I don’t want you to have to worry about running back and forth for multiple days-”

“Appreciated.” I commented with a nod.

“So, he is going to have to know what we’re having so he can plan accordingly with the lights and for the fireworks at the end.” Maul said.

“I don’t know, can he be trusted?” I teased, raising an eyebrow.

“Miss ma’am, I do believe I was one of the first people to know you were even pregnant and I am pretty damn sure I kept that secret. So, yes, I can, in fact, be trusted.” He sassed.

“You’re right, my sincere apology… we’ll tell you. But first, just for my own curiosity. What do you think it is?” I asked.

“Hmm… stand up real quick.” He said.

“One, there is no standing quickly for me anymore. Two, why?” I asked.

“Just do it.” He said.

I let out a groan, that was only partly playful and stood.

“There, happy?”

“Turn to the side.”

I rolled my eyes but did so anyways.

“Oh, it’s definitely a girl.” He said confidently.

I sat back down and looked at him.

“How do you know that?” Maul asked, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back in his chair some.

“I mean look at the way she’s carrying. It’s obviously a girl. So burgundy. Fun.”

“Nope, navy blue, bud.” I corrected him.

“What?”

“It’s not a girl. It’s a boy.” Maul said.

“Really? Are you sure?” Dasar asked causing Maul and me to laugh.

“Positive.”

“Oh… wait why am I getting a little emotional?” He said, fanning his eyes.

“It’s okay we did too.”

“Awe, you two are the cutest… so any names picked out yet?”

I let out a long sigh at the question. Truth is Maul and I have spent many nights discussing names but I just couldn’t figure out what I wanted for him. I wasn’t sure if I wanted him to have a Mandalorian name, a Dathomirian name, a traditional Night Brothers name, or just a name in galactic basic. It was overwhelming honestly, knowing that this name would be with him all his life. I didn’t want to pick something he’d hate later on and it was just stressing me out at this point.

“We are still working on a name.” Maul said for me.

Dasar got the hint that it was a sore subject for me right away and brushed it off quickly.

“Well, there’s no rush, the right name will come to you. And you know what if it doesn’t, I am more than happy to share my name with him. Have a mini Dasar! So cute!”

“It would be something.” I agreed.

“Well I do have to get going now, wedding planning duties await. I will be there next week. Bye bye!” He said

Maul and I said our goodbyes as well before he turned off the device. I sighed as I looked across the table at him.

“Maul, we really need to figure out this name situation.”

taglist:

@fan-g0rl @mxkyrie @onceuponanightmareisawme @lothiriel9 @wordsfromshona @kgbtardis @wondermia69 @mh073099 @ktrivia @fifithexeno @perseny @justalittletomato @pomiotszatana @ameliachastain @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @its-me-meg @kbarnes-2001@bluusugar @happyheartsss @clairebear1621 @rljart @xxxqueenlaufeysonxxxxo @lilallybug @ghoulishjester @kizzyxren @welcometothepedroverse @kaos-bringer @asxrum @kittenlover614 @kugelblubb90 @qweenrogerina

im too tiiered to tag rn ill do it later

#darth maul fic #darth maul #darth maul fanfic #darth maul x reader #darth maul smut #darth maul imagine #darth maul x pregnant reader #darth maul x you #lord maul #maul #maul x reader smut #maul x reader #maul x pregnant reader #star wars

85 notes · View notes