#jewelry box elves au

[fuckingfinwions]

"Good morning Curvo, do you have a minute?"

"Sure, we've got enough swords finally. what do you need?" Curufin said as he took off his forge apron. He was wearing only two bracelets and no rings, but the apron had hidden an intricate silver net that stretched from a necklace all the way down to fasten to his balls, held in place by delicate chains looping behind his back (and through half a dozen piercings) so it wouldn't get caught working in the forge.

"I want you to make another set of armor. Plain except for the star on the breast, and that raised as little as possible. All steel, no gems, no gold."

"What, did a Balrog damage your last one?"

"No, it's still in good condition. This armor would be for you."

"Absolutely not!"

"Curufin, please. You need to wear armor when going between cities."

"I already have a set of armor, made by the best smith in history."

"The armor Father made is beautiful, but totally impractical. The flames of the edge of the pauldrons are a perfect handhold for on orc to grab you off your horse. The relief of the palace is beautiful, but every one of the gems concentrates stress, and every thin spot is a place it will crumple. You know metal better than I do, you can see the flaws just as well."

"So it's a bit risky to wear. Living in Beleriand is a risk, leaving Valinor was a risk, every time you go out to charge at orcs is a risk. I'm not going to ruin our family's reputation just because I'm scared."

"I don't take risks unnecessarily, only to protect our people, and you shouldn't either."

"So our family name isn't worth protecting, not if the so-called king says so."

"Curufin, that's not what this is about. Fingolfin has nothing to do with this."

"Really? Less than a year ago, the pride of house Nolofinwe disappeared without a trace. And it's complete coincidence that today you ask me to dress plainly."

"I'm not asking you to dress plainly all the time, or to give up the armor father designed. You can wear it whenever you're at court, or riding within a few hours of a city where it should be safe enough. But when you're in the wilderness, or planning to go out and fight, no one's going to be thinking about your appearance. It will just be for some circumstances."

"So only some of the time I'll be humiliating our house, and most people won't notice. That makes everything better."

"It won't humiliate our house to do as the head of the house orders. And just like Father required that you wear an apron and nothing that dangles in the forge, I am requiring that you wear durable armor when in battle."

"Fine. I will make a set of steel armor for myself that has no gems, inlays, or flourishes."

"And that doesn't shine like a beacon, making a target for every orc in sight."

"Seriously? My apron is intricately tooled leather, and you won't let the armor even shine? Even though the first set of armor is already so form-hiding I could have a full body rash and a potbelly, and no one would know?"

"I'm serious. You have to wear it once, so I can see you actually made the armor. After that, if you think it's worth never going out of sight of Himlad, I won't force you to wear something so plain."

"I'm holding you to that."

"Of course."

[adorationmajestic]

The footnotes for chapter three of Little to Do With Love (a The Locked Tomb fanfic, also an AU) because I think they are funny, all told.

The “holy focus” of a spellcasting individual in D&D 5e is often a trinket, piece of jewelry, or object of religious significance and is used as the ‘focus’ with which to use magic. Examples of this may be a wand, or a hunk of crystal stringed onto a necklace.

“Faerie”: Drowic slur for a high elf.

“Superior hearing”: some races in D&D 5e are described as having superior hearing compared to humans. Elves, including Drow, are among them.

“It’s not a fetish”: yeah, that’s what they all say

“Detect Magic”: self explanatory name. Spell that does exactly what it says on the box.

“Zweihander. Fifty-eight inches”: Zweihänder is German and quite literally means ‘two-hander’. Fifty-eight inches (58 in) is just two inches short of being five feet. In case you don’t understand: that’s fucking insane.

“Bastard”: the bastard sword is of disputed origin but caps at footy-eight inches (48 in) (four feet). It has a comparatively long hilt next to other blades of similar length.

Anyway. You should check it out and subscribe. I think it's a pretty dang fun read, if I do say so myself.

(As of posting this, only the first chapter has been released. Many more are on the way.)

[deityoftherain]

helixes & abalone shells - Flower Husbands & Seablings Empires Fanfic

Rating: Teen

Relationship: M/M, Gen

Archive Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Status: Completed Oneshot

Word Count: 2,600

Summary: Jimmy and Scott have been dating for four years and have known each other for much longer than that. Their time together certainly hasn't been smooth sailing, but their love has stayed strong throughout it all. Jimmy was at his happiest when with Scott, and he wanted to express that to his boyfriend by proposing.

Click here to read the whole au, but feel free to read standalone

Full fanfic underneath the cut! Please reblog, leave kudos on the AO3 fic slash notes/likes here on Tumblr, comment either place, and etc if you enjoy the story :D

Note: Jimmy and Lizzie are speaking oceanic when the text is surrounded by |vertical bars| and common when there isn't any extra symbols surrounding their words

Jimmy’s tail swooshed happily as he smiled down at the earrings that he had a Mezalean jeweler craft with his input and opinion included every step of the way. They were a pair of small golden hoops, simple on their own yet still gorgeous and with the sort of shine that only real gold could provide. What made them special, however, was that Jimmy had found the two small pearls himself and instructed the Mezalean jeweler to drill holes through them, allowing the pearls to travel freely on their respective hoops and completing the look, making the earrings that much better.

He knew they weren't as flashy as some of the earrings Scott would often wear, but he hadn’t gone for flashy. Jimmy wanted something that could go with anything that they could both wear. Yes, both wear.

It was custom, in Rivendellian culture, that one proposes with a pair of earrings. If the proposee accepts, the couple goes to get their left helixes pierced together, each using one of the earrings so they would match. Jimmy hadn’t known about it (or maybe he forgot it from his lessons) until he started to do some research, but he thought it was rather lovely, especially since elves tended to decorate themselves with a lot of jewelry. There was something special about reserving a piercing spot for someone and then matching with them, and Jimmy was somewhat honored he had a chance to do it.

Oceanites, on the other hand, proposed with abalone shells. Abalone shells were special because they were iridescent and undeniably beautiful. Shell language was also an important cultural practice to Oceanites, even more so during Bestowal, but that was a story for another day.

While Jimmy had the earrings and wanted to include Scott’s traditions in their engagement, Jimmy also wanted to propose with an abalone shell. It was important to him and it would make him really happy to see it on display in Scott’s room when he stayed over. In fact, Jimmy had already picked out an abalone shell the night after his twenty-fourth birthday.

Let’s just say that Scott made sure he had a very pleasurable birthday, using his mouth more than simply giving compliments…

What could he say? Jimmy was a simple man, but even simple men would be foolish to not see perfection when he was literally sleeping in perfection’s bed.

Jimmy relished in the memory, allowing his blush to cover his whole face and spread down to his neck. He closed the jewelry box and held it to his chest for several moments before slipping it into the deep pockets of his baggy pants.

“|Thinking about your lover, small egg?|” Lizzie teased him, coming out of absolutely nowhere, though her tone was fond.

Jimmy jumped and turned on his heel to face her, startled by her presence. “|Lizzie! When did you get here? What- What did you see?|”

“|Oh, nothing much.|” Lizzie shrugged with a mischievous twinkle in her already shimmering blue eyes. “|Just you staring at your engagement jewelry with such a longing look you could rival a romantic drama protagonist.|” “|I was not!|” Jimmy protested, trying to defend his honor. “|Mhm, sure you weren’t, small egg.|” Lizzie laughed, reaching out to ruffle his blonde hair. He just huffed, though he wasn’t truly annoyed. She pulled her arm away and he started to work his fingers through his hair to try and fix the damage. Lizzie hummed softly, her eyebrows furrowing with concern. “|You aren’t getting cold fins, are you? Are you having doubts?|”

“|What?|” Jimmy blinked at her, baffled at her question. “|No! Of course not. I love Scott. I can’t imagine living my life without him. I just… I would do anything for him.|”

“|Like visiting the king of an empire we were at war with because they have a complicated past and he was making him sad?|” Lizzie referenced an instance in the recent past with way too much ease simply to tease him further. They may not look like it at first glance, but Lizzie was definitely his sister. There was no denying it.

Jimmy’s ear fins flicked back flush against his head as he glanced away and muttered, “|You weren’t supposed to know about that.|”

“|My axolotls heard you talking to your cod friends.|” Lizzie swayed her blue axolotl tail from one side to the other, as if to remind him of the animal species that had blessed her. The spirits of the dead sea creatures who bless an oceanfolk before birth were the reason for their respective traits (Jimmy with cod and Lizzie with axolotls) and their ability to talk to the living creatures of the same species. “|You’re not very great at keeping secrets. Next time you want to keep something secret, maybe don’t immediately go ranting out loud where anyone can hear you.|” “|Yeah, yeah,|” Jimmy dismissed, waving his hand around haphazardly, “|but why are you asking about Scott?|” “|You just seem to be dragging your feet when it comes to ‘popping the question’,|” Lizzie explained her reasoning. “|I just wanted to see if there was an issue and if I could help.|” “|I still plan to soon… I just haven’t found the right time yet.|” Jimmy sighed, sitting down on a rock and putting his head in his hands. “|Scott really wasn’t doing well mentally for a bit there, and then he’s been trying to rebuild a friendship with Sausage, and his lung problems have been acting up, and just… Scott deserves a perfect proposal. I’m figuring it out.|” “|Awww,|” Lizzie cooed, a grin wide on her face. “|I remember when I was this young and in love! Oh, the memories and the sappy sentiments, how I miss thee!|” “|You are only two years older than me!|” Jimmy protested the whole “young” bit. “|And Scott and I have been dating for four years! It’s not like we’re in some sort of superficial honeymoon phase.|”

Lizzie started to jokingly sing a cheesy oceanic love song, barely able to hold back her giggles. Jimmy pushed up his sleeves before pouncing on her, tackling her to the ground. A play fight between the two broke out as they indulged in their childish behavior, the topic of Jimmy’s love life soon slipping from their minds.

𖤣𖥧⊱✿⊰𖥧𖤣

Jimmy had been looking for the perfect opportunity to engage to Scott for a while now and, funnily enough, it was actually Scott who had presented it to him. Scott had set up this whole fancy date in a secluded cave, complete with glow berries, a pond with cod swimming around, and a cake that Scott apparently baked himself. It was a wonderful proposal spot! He just had to, you know, actually propose, or “pop the question”, as Lizzie had phrased it.

“I’m not much of a baker, but some of the castle cooks helped me,” Scott admitted with an airy laugh. “If I had done it without their help, I’m sure the cake wouldn’t taste as good as it does.” “Well, I think you did fantastic,” Jimmy replied honestly with his mouth full of cake. He hadn’t realized he had done so until he spoke, so he quickly chewed the cake and swallowed before speaking again, “It’s so good, flower. Like, so good.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, petal,” Scott claimed, but the way he looked at Jimmy said otherwise.

“It’s gotten me plenty of places before,” Jimmy claimed with a purposefully cocky expression and a wink.

“Is that so?” Scott raised an eyebrow, trying to hold back his snickering. 

“It is!” Jimmy claimed, becoming momentarily distracted by his absolutely stunning boyfriend. While he was distracted, Scott scooped up a glob of icing onto his finger and swiped it against Jimmy’s nose. “Hey! What was that for?” “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Jimmy.” Scott licked the frosting off his finger, feigning innocence. “I didn’t do anything.” “Mhm, sure you haven’t.” Jimmy didn’t believe it for a second, though Scott knew that already. Instead of saying anything more, Jimmy gathered some frosting on his own fingers before getting up onto his knees to try and get some on Scott’s face. 

It didn’t work, for Scott reacted fast enough to grab Jimmy’s wrist, restricting him from moving. Scott smiled coyly at Jimmy just before he slid Jimmy’s finger in his mouth for only a moment to get the frosting off. “Nice try, petal.”

Jimmy didn’t pull away from Scott’s hold, stunned frozen and very into what was happening right now. Scott, being the clever elf he was, picked up on Jimmy’s arousal at his actions and worked with it. He used his grip on Jimmy to pull him closer, though he underestimated how easy Jimmy’s jelly-like limbs were to tug. Jimmy practically collided into Scott’s chest, but there were worse positions Jimmy could find himself in.

“Hi,” he breathed out, Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. His gaze trailed down Scott’s body, taking in the sight of his beautiful boyfriend. Jimmy may be biased, but Scott was the most stunning person in the world. Not only physically, but mentally as well. Jimmy could listen to Scott ramble for hours about everything or nothing at all, and he has countless times.

“Just kiss me, Jimmy,” Scott ordered in a tone barely about a whisper, and who was Jimmy to disobey? 

Their lips slotted together on the first try, having plenty of experience to guide their movements. Each kiss shared between them was familiar but never boring or dull. Jimmy may have even indulged himself by nibbling down on Scott’s bottom lip with his pointy teeth, which, based on the noise Scott made, he enjoyed it as well.

When they finally broke, Scott was on top of him with his wings spread out beside him. Scott went limp on top of him, resting his head against Jimmy’s shoulder with a sigh of contentment and adoration. “I love you, Jimmy.”

“I love you too.” Jimmy curled his arms around his boyfriend, resting his hands at the base of his wing roots. With how Scott laid on him, his blue hair was by Jimmy’s nose. He could smell the scent of his shampoo and it was oh so pleasant on his senses. It was unfair how Scott always smelled like flowers or wintergreen when Jimmy smelled like he just left swamp water… which wasn’t exactly wrong, but still!

It was as if time stopped around them, everything calm and peaceful. Jimmy could feel the rise and fall of Scott’s chest against his, and he could hear the cod swim around in the pond, making ripples in the water. Before he even really thought about what he was saying, Jimmy asked, “Marry me?” “What?” Scott jolted at those words, surprise shooting down his veins in all directions. He rolled off of Jimmy so he could sit up on his own accord, eyes wide. “What did you say?”

Jimmy paled as he choked on nothing. He hadn’t meant to propose like that! He scrambled to an upright position, staring right back at Scott. Jimmy bit his inner lip, ear fins twitching at his nervousness. Well, nothing good would come from his hesitance, and the salmon was already out of the bag.

He dug his hand into his pocket, pulling out the jewelry box and abalone shell. Scott’s eyes were trained on him intently and Jimmy tried to keep his cool under it. He sucked in his lips, realizing he wasn’t sure how to propose with both the shell and the earrings at the same time. As a solution, he placed the small box on top of the shell and held them up for Scott to see. “Scott Major, will you marry me?” “Aeor, damnit!” Scott exclaimed, causing Jimmy to flinch. He must have realized what he had done because he covered his mouth and fluffed out his wings. “I mean, yes, of course I will marry you Jimmy, I just… I was going to propose to you. We had the same idea, I suppose.”

Scott dug into the picnic basket that he had brought the cake and such in, retrieving an abalone shell of his own. Now it was Jimmy’s turn to look at him in surprise. “Scott, I… it’s amazing.” “Will you marry me, Jimmy Dweller?” Scott ruffled his feathers, unable to keep amusement and nervousness out of his expression and body language. They both had tried to use this opportunity to propose! They fumbled, of course, but that wasn’t going to stop them.

“You’re incredible.” A baffled laugh managed to escape him just before their lips were on one another again. Their proposals weren’t the most put together, but when have they ever conducted their romantic life together in a picture-esque way?

Pulling away once more, Scott let out a content sigh as he ran his hand against the exposed scales scattered around Jimmy’s body. “You’re so… Jimmy. In the best way, I- Aeor, I can’t believe we’re getting married!”

“About time, huh?” Jimmy chuckled lightheartedly.

Scott rolled his eyes fondly before his attention was given back to the jewelry box. “What’s in there? I thought oceanfolk proposed with shells, not jewelry.” “We don’t. They’re engagement helixes,” he answered before tensing up. “That’s a Rivendellian thing, right? I was sure I had gotten it correct- Scott, are you okay? Why are you tearing up?” “I just… I didn’t think you knew about that.” Scott tried to blink the tears away, but it only worked to let a tear trail down his cheek. “I hadn’t gotten us earrings. I wanted to propose with what would make you happy, so I got the shell, but then you got both, and-” “Shh, Scott, it’s okay, breathe,” Jimmy coached gently, cupping his face and using his thumb to wipe away the tear. Scott didn’t usually unravel this quickly unless he was uncontrollably anxious, and, even then, it only happened when they were alone together. Jimmy was glad Scott felt safe enough to not hide everything he felt behind some sort of persona. “You’re okay. You’re more than okay. I, wow, I can’t wait to display my abalone shell back home and wear one of the earrings to match with you.”

Scott melted into his hand, taking a deep yet shaky breath. He closed his eyes for a heartbeat before opening them back up. “Can I see the earrings?” “Of course.” Jimmy removed his hand from Scott’s cheek to grab the box. He opened it, revealing the gold hoops with a pearl accompanying each. “I found the pearls myself.” “You did?” Scott breathed out, gently removing one of the earrings from its box and holding it up to the glowberries to observe it better. “Jimmy, I… Aeor, Jimmy, I love you. Simple as that.” Scott clamped the earring in his hand to keep it safe as he pulled Jimmy into a hug. He wrapped his arms tightly around Jimmy and curled his wings around the both of them. “I can’t wait to marry you, petal, my fiancé.”

Jimmy returned the hug, squeezing him as an outlet of his joy and affections. He couldn’t keep a dopey grin off his face if he tried, high off his love as his heart fluttered blissfully in his chest. Jimmy was over the moon, overjoyed, and he couldn’t foresee anything being able to bring him back down. How could they? He was going to marry the love of his life (of every life, if that belief was true), he was going to marry Scott. How could it get better than this?

[theboarsbride]

Can I get some Wyrm's Bride thoughts/headcanons, please? (Sorry if this comes in twice, your ask box was acting a little weird earlier!)

OH MY GOSH OK IM SO SORRY IT TOOK ME A HOT MINUTE TO REPLY TO THIS COLLEGE/WORK HAS BEEN GETTING BUSY AND MY BRAIN ROT HAS BEEN DIRECTED ELSEWHERE HHHHHHH😭😭😭😔😔 I've been neglecting Grima and Tathareth, it's unfair-

OK GONNA TRY AND MAKE THIS CLEAR AS POSSIBLE AS IM CURRENTLY HALF AWAKE AND ALLERGIES ARE KICKIMG MY BUTT

BUT👏👏 Wyrm's Bride AU!! Kinda of a 'fairytale au' that's based off the fairytale Lindworm Prince and Russian film I Am Dragon! Grima is a beeg ole snake/lindworm creature, Tathareth is someone offered up as a sacrifice to him but PLOT TWIST he doesn't kill her and romance shenanigans ensue 😩💦

Grima became creature because of Sauruman because.... of course! Wizard is petty and mean enough to curse him like that lmao, probably as some sort of punishment for being a shitty spy in Rohan once the Fellowship shows up like the gang of absolute Giga Chad Madlads that they are😔😔😔

Never put TOO much thought into this curse but I love the idea of it being a 'man at night, creature during the day' !

Snake!Grima makes lots of gator sounds! The deep, growling purrs, especially. XD

Probably has a HOARD! Some small treasures, but mostly hoards stuff like books, scrolls, etc. Prefers bookish materials over finery, lowkey 🥺

In terms of like... inner turmoil Grima wants to try and separate HIMSELF from his Wyrm self. Sort of like he does in Serpentine Whispers, where there is Grima, a man who is cunning and has the capacity to do good (but chooses not to), and then there is Wormtongue, the sly, dark ugly and unwanted aspects of his character.

So in this AU there is Grima, the man, and the Wyrm, an embodiment and manifestation of everything awful about him

Tathareth is offered as a sort of sacrifice to him because elves of Lothlorien (or off brand Lothlorien in a separate fantasy setting lmao), in a moment of infinite wisdom, think that giving a giant Wyrm that made himself at home in some caves just on their realm's borders a maiden to "wed" (or eat lmao) would appease him......also they wanna make peace with the beeg scary lizard before it becomes a nuisance 😩💦....also they could slay him themselves but for plot convenience we'll just say that elves aren't privy to slaying dragons anymore

And she is given as a sacrifice since she's no (living) family to be remembered by and she makes no effort to be social, and create social bonds, with elves soooooooo needless to say she wouldn't be missed 😩😔

She gets all done did and elaborately dressed in a gaudy bridal gown of lace and gossamer and silks, wears a veil and jewelry adorned with bells to garner attention, wears wreaths and headdress made of various red flowers, wears gaudy red makeup, and spent the previous night drinking a FUCKTON of wine so her blood tastes sweet..... and she also has a blade hidden on her, a fancy bejeweled one, that she hopes to use to slaughter her wyrm husband

A whole procession ensues, including the elves bringing various elven treasures and luxury foods, even having Tathareth riding atop an elaborately adorned horse with the intention of Grima devouring it as an offering as well. LOOKS like a wedding procession, but the somber folk hymns being sung and dour atmosphere make it feel like one for a funeral.

Tathareth has a whole internal meltdown realizing how her people never truly cared for her, thinking so little of her that they throw her away to be eaten by a wyrm. Realizes that she must be undesirable and wretched if that's the case.

Grima never devours her (or the horse) and spares her life, but accepts her as an offering for a wife because 1) pretty lady and he feels bad 🥺 2) .......actually 1 is one of the only reasons because why not

Tathareth is too scared to really do anything, let alone try to slay him as she planned, so she just tries to hide and cry her feelings out

Nighttime comes and BAM! She meets human Grima😩

She believes him to be a prisoner of the Wyrm as well, so she begins to cling to him as a companion so she feels less alone 😔

Grima just tries to distance himself from his Wyrm self because he is terrified of being reminded of his shitty behavior lmao

So she gets sad whenever he leaves her during the day for reasons that are a mystery to her, buuuuuuutttt she gradually puzzles out that Grima and the Wyrm are one in the same because obviously lmao

Because it's quite the coincidence that Grima disappears in the day only to he replaced by the Wyrm, and vice versa

And because both exhibit melodramatic, sneaky, intelligent, and overall cold attitudes

But a friendship develops when Tathareth realizes that Grima ain't so bad 🥺

And friendship turns to love ofc😭😭😭🥺🥺

Love confession scene would deadass look something like this scene:

Tathareth wonders if she can heal him at all, but comes to terms that her powers as a healer can only go so far when it comes to healing black magic 😔

So Grima is snake forever

But they manage

As beeg snake and hippie elf wife lmao

HHHHSHSBSJJSSNJSKS IVE NOT THOIGHT OF THIS AU IN AGES OH MY GOSH HHHHHSBSBS

thank you SM for this ask, bro!!!!!🥺🥺🥺💛💛💛 I hope ya like my crazy aah rambling

[courageouslyfearless]

Dream World (Part 2) ☾ Baekhyun

Dream World (Part 2) ☾ Baekhyun

Genre: Fantasy AU

Pairing: Baekhyun X Reader

Word Count: 4.4k

Requested Tags: @itsbaekhyunsbutt​ @strawbaeri-s​ @bbyunz​

| Part 1 |

The Kingdom of Akron had changed drastically in a few months time. When news from the royal court spread through the lands asking the elves to come back home, most of them hesitated. It must be a trick, they thought, the queen must be up to something. Baekhyun knew better. The queen's sudden change of heart was Y/N's doing. She had written the happy ending she had promised. "Happy" was relative. He was content that he could ask his people to come back to Akron, begging them to trust this to be real and not some sort of plot. But deep down, Baekhyun was devastated, as this was only possible because of a woman he was never going to see again. He did his best to push these thoughts to the back of his mind so he could get through his days. But he couldn't chase away the memories that plagued his brain at night. He questioned his own sanity often; he missed her so. More often than not, he dreamed of her as well. It was his own personal prison, inside his head.

It was getting burdensome for him to pretend he wasn't completely and utterly heartbroken. His people looked up to him for guidance, he couldn't afford to show his weaknesses. But truthfully, he was finding it difficult to care as well. So eventually he made one of the toughest choices he's ever had to make; he resigned from his position as ruler of the elves, to someone far more capable, his best friend and mightiest warrior in their army, Chanyeol.

After the crowning ceremony, as his people  celebrated, he had tried to make a quiet exit from the festivities. Elves enjoyed drinking ale and playing dangerous games once inebriated. He wasn't in the mood to play them. Unfortunately, as he worked his way through the people, he kept being stopped by folks who wanted to thank him for bringing them home and ruling them after his father's death. He waved their words away, simply responding with "I didn't do much." Which was the truth, he hadn't actually done much, but he couldn't tell them that. So he kept pushing his way through to leave but once he was almost out, Chanyeol appeared in front of him. Baekhun sighed.

"I just need to get out," he said, looking up at his tall friend, hoping he'd understand.

Chanyeol's eyes studied the prince with careful thought.

"You're leaving, aren't you? It wasn't just about ruling, you don't want to be in Akron."

Baekhyun was surprised that his friend had read him so well. He gave him a small smile.

"That was a pretty good guess," he started, then his smile faded, "Everything about this place reminds me of her. I can't do it anymore. I'm going back to the mountains. I heard there's still a group of elves staying there because they don't trust the Queen. I will try to convince them that it is safe to come back." An excuse he knew, but it felt better to think of his journey as a mission and not as him giving up and running away from the memory of her.

Chanyeol read the truth in his face as clear as if he were telling him. "If that's what you need to do to feel better then do it. But you've never been a man that loses hope. Not once have I seen you surrender. Why start now?"

"What are you trying to tell me, Chanyeol? I told you there's nothing I can do. She's gone... forever." That last part hurt to say, he almost felt like he couldn't breathe every time the truth hit him.

"You were set on keeping her here once, remember? You searched high and low for a spell to do it. Then finding the ingredients," Chanyeol shuddered at the memory, "getting the troll's heart was some nasty business," he shook his head, "anyways, what I'm trying to say is, you found a way once. If you really can't live without her, then do it again. Just find another way."

Baekhyun stared at his friend. Could he do it? Could he defy the laws of nature.

"I used up all the magic," he said, defeated.

Chanyeol groaned, exasperated, "Magic doesn't just vanish from existence. It's all around us, in the trees, in the river, in every fiber and molecule of life, there is magic. It is sown into the very essence of the world. You just have to learn how to harness it. I'd start with the nymphs, if I were you."

Baekhyun thought about it. He had nothing to lose by trying. He was set on leaving Akron anyways, why not leave with some hope as company?

Finally, he smiled. At this, Chanyeol was relieved, because it was the most genuine smile he'd seen from him since he lost her. He took this as a good sign.

"Now go get your princess."

~

Meanwhile, you were wrestling with the tape that had sealed and kept safe your possessions inside the cardboard boxes. Unpacking had become quite the chore as you couldn't find the box cutter or literally anything with an edge to cut through the tape. Your new apartment looked like a war zone and you expected to come out as the victor. If only you could find something to...

"Keys, of course!"

You grabbed your set of keys dangling from the hook by the door and searched through the label on the boxes to find the ones that you wanted to open first. The one with "bedroom" written on it with a black sharpie caught your eye first. After cutting through the tape, you opened it to go through your belongings. It was mostly books and novels. You smiled, that is, until you spotted a familiar blue cover with stars on it. Your dream journal. You hadn't opened it since... well, since that time. Writing after losing him was unthinkable. There was no way you could ever write another character to life, let alone love them as you had loved him.

You reached for it now with trembling hands and a racing heart. The journal was in pretty bad shape. You had tried getting rid of it once, throwing it in a lake during your spring break vacation, hoping the tightness in your chest would subside. Watching it sink under did the opposite. You had rushed into the water to save it. To save him. Or the memory of him. That afternoon you hurried back home, to find a way to dry and save it from being completely ruined. As painful as it was, you didn't want to forget him. He wasn't part of the real world, but he was real to you.

You opened it now, for the first time, flicking through the wrinkled pages. It was still readable but only to you, the one who had written every word and sentence on it. The tightness in your chest had become a permanent resident and you no longer let it have that much control over you. You ignored it this time as well.

With tears burning in your eyes you started reading. Akron. The Queen. Baekhyun. You smiled at the part where you guys met.

The dress was too revealing, you worried, staring at your reflection in the mirror. You kept pulling up at the fabric over your bust , hoping it would show less cleavage. Your maidens hovered about with jewelry and powders and anything that could make you look more regal. The shortest one, with the dazzling smile and gentle fingers, placed a gold crown on your head. You weren't used to the weight of it. It felt awkward. You thought it made you feel off balance.

Three knocks at the door announced a new visitor.

"Come in," with the words, you also breathe in deeply, maybe a little too quickly as you become dizzy from the action. Your're still in a daze when he walks in.

Plain brown pants. Plain brown tunic. And that's all that is plain about him.

As you finally fix your eyes on his face, your heartbeat picks up its pace. His smile was the first thing that drew you in. It was playful and kind at the same time. You were confused as to how he managed that. His eyes were an ordinary brown at first glance, but the way they held your gaze was anything short of extraordinary. It felt like he could see right through you all the way down to your soul, where you kept the most private things about yourself hidden. You found yourself at a loss for words and at the widening of his smile you knew he could tell he had an effect on you.

"Your majesty," he finally spoke, "my name is Baekhyun, I was told I will have the pleasure of working as your servant from this day onward."

You will never forget the way he spoke then. As if he knew you, your heart and he was ready to take it for himself. You should've known then that he'd succeed. How could he not? He was confident, funny, kind and sometimes a little naughty as well. There was nothing predictable about him. He challenged you almost every occasion he could.

There was only one time you could recall when he was none of these things. Just one time, when his confidence left his shoulders, and his  eyes couldn't seem to find yours. You remember how quiet his voice was as he reached with trembling fingers to hold your hand for the first time. You'd been crying, reminiscing the scene at home. Your parents had been arguing. But the situation had escalated quickly. Words turned into shoving, shoving turned into objects being thrown. The next thing you saw was your mom slide across the dining room floor and into the kitchen, her body hitting the refrigerator. She'd dislocated her arm from the force. You were compelled to go to the hospital with her and lie about how she got hurt. They always made you lie for them. Once back home you'd had to clean up the broken glass and the blood stains on the floor from someone's bare feet who had walked over it.

He'd cried with you as you told him, holding you in his arms like you were his to hold. And you let him, because when everything in your world felt wrong, the warmth of his embrace was the only thing that felt right. His strength was the only thing keeping you together. Just that once did he hesitate. Only that time did he hold back. The next time you dreamed of him, he stole his first kiss from your lips. He never hesitated after that.

So how could you have stopped the beautiful force of nature that was Baekhyun from taking your heart? Just as the sun comes out every day and the moon reflects its light at night, just as everything that happens without fail, it was inevitable to fall in love with him.

But now all that was left of him was this dreadful looking journal and the memories in your head, which will wither away with time until you question if it even happened at all. His eyes will fade like the ink of your favorite purple pen on these wrinkled pages. His smile will become jaded by reality, distorted by the smudged words on a piece of paper. But the worst part was that if he felt for you as he had confessed the last time that you were together, then he was feeling as hopeless and heartbroken as you were. That thought made you sadder than anything else.

You closed the journal gently, as to not cause more damage to it. Then you walked to your room and stored it in the top drawer of the night stand by your bed. You needed to stay focused on the task at hand, which was to unpack everything still stored away in boxes. Pushing thoughts of him out of mind, you went back to work.

Once you are more or less done putting away the stuff in the kitchen, you lay down on the carpeted floor of the small living room. You had no furniture for this space yet, so it was empty. You closed your eyes slowly as they had become heavy with exhaustion. You knew if you kept it up for too long, you'd fall asleep right there. That's how tired you were. So instead, you force yourself to stand up. You decided to take a warm bath and then head out to bed.

You rarely did nice things for yourself, but candles had always been a frivolous need of yours. You lit one in the bathroom as you watched the tub fill up. Once the water was high enough, you undressed and got in the tub. You laid down, resting your head back on the wall as the candle spread the sweet aroma of coconut sunrise in the air.

At this level of relaxation, it doesn't take long for you to drift off into a soft dream.

You were surrounded by tall trees that towered over you like some kind of mythical giants. You glanced up at them, wondering if they would suddenly come to life. They didn't, but the thought that in a dream it was possible, kept you alert to your surroundings. Looking away from them, your gaze comes down to what's in front of you, a vast lake. There were tiny lights shimmering over the water, flying into the air and swirling in perfect unison like small tornadoes. It took you a few seconds to realize they weren't lights.

"Fairies," you whispered. But as if they had heard you speak, they stopped moving, and this made it easier to see their tiny little wings flapping to keep them in the air. You kept quiet and eventually they continued their flight ritual.

"Pixies, actually."

Your heart stopped. Literally, skipped a beat, painfully reminding you that it was still in your chest.

You recognized the voice. You'd know it anywhere. But you were afraid of looking back. You were afraid of hoping it was him and not see his face. You hadn't dreamed of him since the pen incident. So you stayed like that, frozen in place, fear rooting you to that spot.

After a few seconds passed by, you felt it. A hand, resting on your arm, the touch light as a feather, bringing goosebumps across your skin.

"You said writing was the only thing getting you through tough times, how have you survived this long without it?"

You took a deep breath, still unable to move but ready to respond anyways.

"I can't write another you."

That was all you could say. You knew he'd understand the implication of your words. You couldn't risk loving anyone else. You couldn't risk forgetting him. Or replacing him. You wanted your heart to be his and no one else's.

"Then write me again. Write about all the moments we should've lived together. Write me into life."

What was he saying? Why did he want you to torture yourself by writing about him?

"But it hurts," you find yourself saying, tears welling up under your eyes.

"I know, princess, I know. But I need you to write me as if I was never gone."

You turned around then, half expecting to find him standing there, but you were met by a rush of wind that carried his last words as a whisper.

"Write me."

You woke up from the dream in a start, looking around your bathroom like he might appear there from thin air. But as reality set in, your heart sank. Of course he would never be there. Even in the dream you couldn't see him. You brushed away a stray tear from your cheek. He wanted you to write him. About him. You didn't know if it was really him or just your brain playing games with you again, but it was the only sign you'd received from him in months. You wanted to believe it was really him. Your broken heart needed to hope it was him.

So that night you wrote him. Every detail. Every habit. Every look. The way that his lips taste. The hint of gold in his eyes when sunlight washed over his face. The feel of his hand on your cheek. Anything that you could remember about him.

You also wrote about moments that never happened. You wrote him as someone who walked in the real world, facing your kind of problems. Working a 9 to 5 to pay the bills. Running to the corner store to get you that chocolate ice cream you'd been craving since the week started. Eating ramen several times a week when money was tight. Sitting on the couch, the T.V. on in the background as he watched your face  instead of the screen. You wrote about anything you could think of. Anything that you wished you could do with him. You painted his image with vivid and ordinary description, because you wished to live the simplest and most common every day moments with him.

You lost track of time again, as you often did when you were writing. Your hand ached by the time you stopped. You could feel the beginnings of a blister on your middle finger from where you'd been holding the pen with fierce purpose. The shot of adrenaline that hearing his voice gave you had fueled you for hours. But now exhaustion was pulling at your eyelids, making it hard to keep them open. With a sigh, you laid down in bed and hid your body under the covers. You fell asleep then, staring at the ceiling, hugging your journal close to your chest and with a wish in your mind to meet him in your dreams again.

But no such thing happen. You had a dreamless and uneventful night. When you woke up, it was from the sunlight hitting your face because in your tiredness you had forgotten to close the blinds to your windows.

"Stupid sun," you mumbled at your pillow. Covering you face with a blanket to give your eyes time to adjust to the brightness.

"What did the sun ever do to you, princess?"

You froze. Literally, stopped moving in your bed at the sound of his voice.

I've finally lost it, you thought, I've finally lost my mind.

That must be the only explanation. His voice, had been so clear it almost sounded like he was next to you. Writing about him last night must have driven you over the edge. You laughed at yourself and where your imagination had taken you. It wasn't funny, but still you laughed, because there was nothing left for you but to do so, or you'd end up in tears.

"I missed your laugh," you heard the voice again.

This time you didn't laugh. You couldn't. The voice was closer and with the tone you were able to visualize what his face would look like as he spoke. He'd be cupping your face in his hands, his eyes holding yours as if to project his honesty through that one look. It was such a beautiful image the one in your brain, that you could couldn't move to confront it. If you indeed had lost your mind, at least you'd have his words to keep you company.

"Y/N." This was the second time you had ever hear him call you by your name and upon hearing it, your heart did somersaults. You pulled the blanket down, ever so slowly, afraid of meeting an empty space besides you.

But it wasn't empty. Baekhyun laid there, on the side of the bed that was always unoccupied. Until now.

You felt your eyes widening, but you couldn't open your mouth to speak. You didn't know what to say. You were speechless.

Baekhyun smiled as you stared at him. Reaching a hand to touch your face. His touch was warm against your skin. You almost closed your eyes to enjoy the sensation, but you were afraid that he'd be gone when you opened your eyes again. So you kept staring at him, but finally found the will to speak.

"Is this a dream?"

He smiled wider, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he moved closer to you. He only stopped when his face was an inch away from yours. Your breath caught in your throat with the proximity. He was so close you caught a whiff of a woodsy scent that you remembered as exclusively his from your time in Akron.

"Baek-"

Before you could finish saying his name, he trapped your lips with his in a kiss. You didn't want to close your eyes. You didn't want to end the fantasy. But he kissed you fervently and you found yourself losing the will quickly as you kissed him back as desperately. His hand moved under the blanket that covered you and found your waist, pulling your body closer from there until it was completely against his.

As quickly as he started the fire, as swift he was about putting it out when he stopped kissing you. You almost whined in protest and he chuckled in response.

"Does that feel real enough to you?" he asked.

You opened your eyes to meet his beautiful brown ones. The sun was hitting them just the right amount and you could see your reflection in them. You pressed a hand to his face, touching him for the first time.

"How is this possible?" You wanted to ask other questions too, but this was the most important one. "You told me... you told me you used all the magic in Akron. That I would never return once I left."

He smiled, that smile of his that you loved. The one that made him look years younger than he is. His playful smile. "There is always more magic to be found and to be created. A friend reminded me of that. You couldn't come back to me, so I came to you instead."

Your heart was beating so fast that you wondered how it didn't just stop working. There was no way it was healthy for it do that every time you were with Baekhyun. You were still confused and he was being very vague.

"But how did you do it?" you pressed.

He reached for your hand, the one still touching his face and intertwined your fingers with a look of awe in his eyes.

"I didn't. You did," he paused, his gaze meeting yours, "you actually wrote me to life".

You thought he must be kidding, so you waited for the punchline. But his one never came. He was serious.

"I did what?!"

He smiled at you with so much fondness, seeing you as confused as you were.

"You wrote me to life, Y/N. First in your dreams and now here."

"You're real? Like real real?" you knew you sounded idiotic, but it was something hard to wrap your head around.

Baekhyun was a character to a story that you poured a lot of love and time into. Some writers like to say that their characters have a life of their own. But it's just an expression, it's supposed to mean they basically write themselves. They come without effort. But what he is saying is very different. What he is saying sounds so incredibly crazy yet wonderful and though you don't want to let yourself feel hopeful, a seed had taken root in your heart. A seed that you hoped would bloom into reality, a reality where you could live a life of happiness with the one you love.

You knew he could see it on your face, what you were thinking and what you were feeling. So he finally stopped being cryptic.

"I am real. While you wrote me and created a connection between me and the real world, I had one created from Akron to here. The field with the lake where I spoke to you last night, well, the water pixies conjured a portal from our side and you fabricated one from this side, through your journal. Now I can come and go as long as you don't destroy the journal."

He was being truthful, not a note of humor in his expression. You couldn't believe it. It was something out of a fantasy novel. Before you knew it, tears were clouding your vision. Baekhyun reacted as quickly as usual, out of pure instinct, arm draped protectively around your body. You hid your face in the crook of his neck to hide your crying face from him.

"I can't believe I get to live with you." You words are strained with emotion, but you say them anyways.

"I can't believe I get to love you," he says in return. "I thought... I thought I'd lost you forever." His voice cracked at the end. This made you pull back to look at his face. You were surprised to see him crying as well. You knew his pain and that sense of loss because you had felt it yourself.

"Baekhyun." You didn't know what else to say.

"I love you, princess. In Akron and here, in a world I know nothing about."

You smiled at this. The most genuine smile you had ever smiled before. You finally let yourself think about a future with him, because for the first time, it was possible.

"I love you too. I can't wait to teach you all about it. There's a lot you'll love and... well, like you told me once, it's not all rainbows and butterflies."

He smiled at that and you did as well.

Overcome with emotion you kiss him again. Because you can. Because you thought you would never get to do it again. You kiss him and he kisses you back. You both try to project how much love and devotion you have for each other. Your love is literally one from stories. Made up. But more real than anything you had ever experienced in your life. And now you will get to live it and test it and maybe even get that happy ending people like to dream about.

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* Masterlist *

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A/N: So that came out very meh. But also I always think that about the stuff I write so it’s probably me being a perfectionist. Anyways, hope you still enjoyed it! Thank you so much for the support and love you showed for this random idea I had that turned into this story. Love you guys!

[captusmomentum]

Okay! Here’s this monstrosity! finally finished the thing from yesterday. basically a collection of drabbles of Thenvunin/Inan/Uthvir in an ancient au/looking glass setting bc I had ideas and they made the most sense there (and if i tried to pick from the like 50 other kinds of au i’d’ve died). Deciding to post them all together just bc ????? it made sense in my head????? i dunno. Probably should have gone thru this shit to check for oocness at minimum but w/e I’’m sick of looking at this shit so it is what it is. 

Thenvunin + Uthvir are  @feynites‘s  Inanallas is mine 

Notes:

drabble about Inan’s history in an elvhenan setting, not mandatory for this to make sense but it’s Useful 

Thenvunin was with Mythal and her other high ranking servants in a meeting, listening attentively to his Lady and discussing with his follow servant the division of labor and various elements related to their new tasks. He notices a small dark shadow in the corner of his eye, moving towards where they all sat. He realizes quickly as they move more into his field of vision that it’s not a threat but a servant. Inanallas he registers as they kneel down next to Mythal’s chair and whisper something to her, a small dark blue figure like a shadow next to Mythal’s great expanse of gold and white.

He has never interacted with them, or even formally met them—or seen their face he realizes suddenly, but he knows of them, everyone does. It was quiet a stir when they has been found by Dirthamen’s people in the wilds being raised by spirits and animals, the news had spread through the empire like wildfire. He wondered how that came to be, did their parents abandon them? Did they die? What happened to leave them stranded in the woods like that? The idea of someone abandoning such a young child made his blood boil, it was the sort of thing that should be punishable by death. He hoped that whoever they were they did not callously toss aside their child, that they loved them dearly and it was some terrible outside force that separated them, be it death or something less final.

They were a mystery in nearly all ways, the most he knew was their profession and even that was vague. They were constantly swathed in more layers then was ever acceptable by any of the Aesthetic Guidelines or trends, the cloth always shades of blue, their face was always covered, the only skin visible was the strip of freckled skin around their eyes. Which were… very Blue, a steely blue, piercing even, and emphasized by the blue of their clothing. It seemed in general, that they worked on the fringes of the allowed, rarely seen and answering only to Mythal, like something still only half tamed. His mind wanders against his will as he watches the exchange.

Mysterious and a little wild, a little traitorous thrill runs through him thinking about it. They must be very strong, clever and resilient to live in the wilds for so long, and to manage in such an unsuitable place for children as Dirthamen’s court. And very intelligent and talented for Mythal to give them such leeway, though perhaps what was more because of the feral traces in them. He wondered what the rest of their face looked like, if it was as captivating as their eyes and what it would take to get them to trust him enough to show him, to open up to him at all.  

He snaps out of his reverie and chides himself furiously, how could he?! This was no time for idle daydreaming! He had important duties to tend to! He made a point to focus intently on everything but Inanallas as read over the papers in front of him again with renewed zeal and pointedly ignored the small pang he felt when they left the room again as silently as they entered.

Inanallas did not like parties. At All. They thought they were stupid and trite and a complete waste of time. Well. Not a complete waste of time, there was some use to them. They were excellent for eavesdropping, which Inanallas was very good at and for people watching, which they enjoyed intensely. It did not seem like it from their own wardrobe but they were actually quite interested in the fashions that seemed to sweep through the upper classes with obnoxious frequency. They just didn’t like wearing them themselves or being forced to mingle with strangers and suffer small talk and quiet barbs at their Otherness.

Which is why they did not like parties.

But sadly, they could not escape all of them and so here they were, at a party, dressed in a marginally fancier version of their normal garb cut from a fabric enchanted to shift and match the environment around them. Just because they couldn’t escape being here didn’t mean they had to make it easy for people. They stuck to the edges, shadows, and hiding places near interesting conversations mostly, occasionally darting over to the food before retreating.

They were sitting idly, back resting on an urn overflowing with flowers when they saw a flash brightness in the corner of their eye.

It was Thenvunin, ethereal in a long flowing gown that showed delicate patches of his flawless skin through sheer lace. The light catching his hair and jewelry had been what caught their attention. He was very, very pretty, especially now, with the current fashions actually kind of suited him for once. They are very much enjoying how the looks with his board shoulders and muscled back.  He was also very high strung, strong, temperamental, difficult, obnoxious and considered vapid or dense by some they had heard. He also apparently was desperately found of birds, not her first choice of animals, they liked wolves more—easier to cuddle and play with— but birds where very pretty and some where very menacing which was good. He took his job, and pretty much everything else very seriously, perhaps sometimes too seriously.

This was of course all things they had heard from listening to others, and observation in the brief moments they were even near each other so the credibly of it all was iffy.

Right now he just seemed to be trying very hard to have a good time. Or look like he’s having one, or something like that. They’re not too sure what’s going on there. Another elf begins to engage him in conversation and they watch as he becomes increasing more tense and visibly upset even while he tries not to show it. This other elf is being rude, sneakily given Thenvunin’s reaction, if they where being outright mean he could tell them off but he seems to be trapped in that double speak they all seem to do. Another reason they hate it here, they’re also very bad at it and always end up losing and looking like an idiot.

They want to go over and defend Thenvunin, who while he might be a bit of an ass by the accounts of some people had always struck them as fairly genuine and relatively harmless and so does not deserve this bullshit, but find themselves stuck. They really aren’t good at solving things with words the way the elves do it and it would be disastrous to try to use force. And if they do go out there they’ll be exposed, in the open, with all eyes on them. Which they desperately do not want, their life right now works because they are anonymous if that is broken they’re royally fucked up the ass.

Thenvunin settles the debate for them by primly telling the other elf off (or something like that) and removing himself from the conversation, hair and gown swirling around him as he turns and leaves to move to some other section of the party.

They feel terrible, relieved, and mad at themselves that they’re relieved. They really should have backed Thenvunin up or something, even if they had no idea what it was all about and if only because they were from the same faction. They moved from their perch and moved closer to the offending elf to better hear them and maybe get some idea of the context of things. They were talking to some other elf now, a friend of theirs Inanallas thinks, the two are laughing derisively about something.

After a while they realize that something is Thenvunin, and is very very mad. They instantly hate these two on principle and are determined to find Thenvunin even more attractive just to spite them.

…Which they acknowledge is a very stupid and ineffective revenge plan so they also make note of their names to do something to them later when they have more time to think about a good plan.

They decide then that now’s a good as time as any to fuck off out of this hellhole and make a quick circuit to look for Thenvunin first, mainly out of curiosity, they like having a sense of how the stories they watched unfold at things like this end otherwise the not knowing bothers them. They find him talking animatedly and furiously with one of his acquaintances, most likely abut the encounter and it seems like he will not be stopping for a while.

They smile and turn to escape from this nightmare castle and get back to less shittier locales.

Thenvunin returns to his quarters after an particularly troublesome day to find a golden bracelet laid out for him neatly on his table in a sweet little box with no lid on a dainty pillow. A gift, he assumes that’s what it is as it’s certainly not his. He picks it up and examines it, to his delight, the entire bracelet is made of the silhouettes of a songbird interlocked in a chain. It’s warm to the touch, a spell he assumes, so that he doesn’t feel a chill from the cold metal upon further examination he finds more spells in the bracelet, to protect it and keep it clean. How thoughtful. He examines the box and pillow too, which is actually not a pillow but a folded square of cloth, white cream with little golden birds soaring across it. His heart flutters.

He looks around the sitting room, then the other rooms of his apartments, looking for someone or something to explain this, some sign or clue but finds nothing. There’s no note, no clue as to who did this, he feels a pang at that but also a thrill of excitement. He has a secret admirer. It was the sort of thing he’d secretly dreamed of for years, it was so romantic. He wondered where they were now, what they were like, they clearly had taste and knew he liked birds at least. He slipped the bracelet on and admired it, as giddy as if he’d been drinking champagne. He even twirled a little and rushed to a mirror to see himself with it on then flitted out to his birds to show them and enjoy how lovely the day had just turned.

He wore it quite frequently after that, more than would be considered fashionable but not so much it could be seen as tacky, and made sure to wear it whenever he was around different people than usual to try and maximize the chance of his admirer seeing him wearing it. It made his heart flutter when he did, thinking that whoever gave it to him was out there and might catch a glimpse of him enjoying their gift. He desperately hoped he looked as half as beautiful as the bracelet.

He got more gifts after that sporadically, he never had any idea when they would appear in his apartments nor a sign or note when they were left. He got earrings, a necklace, and rings to complete the set the bracelet had started one after the other. He’d started leaving a thank you note in the place where the gifts tended to appear, they did not accurately describe his feelings but he couldn’t stand not thanking them. He was delighted when the gift came and the note vanished. He also received a jeweled brooch in the shape of a peacock’s feather, a finely crafted perch for his birds and even an embroidered dressing gown which had made him blush when he’d realized what it was. It had felt very, forward of his admirer and his heart had raced with excitement and concern, so suggestive and he didn’t even know their name!

This gift had had the first note from his admirer.

It appeared that his admirer had foreseen where his mind might go with that gift and had wanted to clarify. The first thing he had noted was that their handwriting was not very elegant, a slight disappointment but it did not deter his excitement or curiosity. His admirer had wanted to try their hand at sewing and embroidery and wanted to make him something he could wear, but did not know his sizes nor wanted to invade his privacy by trying to find it out so had settled for the dressing gown since it wasn’t as fitted as many other options. It was sweet and charming and he forgave them instantly for their poor penmanship. He’d considered that they might be making their gifts themselves but now that it was confirmed it made them all even more precious. He’d changed into it immediately and admired the garment in the mirror beside himself with how pretty it was, the fabric was soft and gentle against his skin and the embroidery was as a stunning tapestry of flowers and birds. He wished, and not for the first time, that he could wear this for his admirer and see their reaction to him modeling these gifts.

Mythal is visiting Andruil. It’s not too odd but it’s uncommon enough to be of interest, at least for the time being. Uthvir recognizes the majority of faces as constants in Mythal’s entourage, though there are a handful of new faces. They scan the white and silver flock dully until they spy one slate blue figure out of alignment with the aesthetic of the rest, using their small size and the throng of people to camouflage themselves. That peaked their interest.

They watch their prey whenever they can as Mythal’s people bustle around settling in and then all through the evening meal. They consider going over to them and get a better look, see what they can pry out of them, but really it’s already quite interesting watching them from a distance. They don’t seem to talk to the others too much outside of necessary communication and do much of the grunt work, unloading and unpacking whatever nonsenses their party had thought to bring. At the dining table now they still don’t seem to speak to anyone, they can be completely sure since their face is still covered by a veil. It’s amazing to them that they’re managing so successfully to remain so obscure despite being so oddly dressed. Years of practice they surmise, but why? Why are they so desperate to go unnoticed?

What interesting prey.

Eventually things move on to a more casual, party sort of event as dinner is finished and people become increasingly more drunk, they themselves are still sharp having nursed their single drink the entire night. Normally they’d prefer at least another glass but they’re hunting right now. Their prey hasn’t even filled their glass once, they note, frankly a wise choice given the company. Music strikes up in earnest now and their prey uses the opportunity to make their escape. Silently, Uthvir follows.

They’re moving with caution and only mild stealth, putting in effort to avoid others but not so much that if they do run into someone it’s not suspicious. Their pace makes it easy for Uthvir to catch up to them, as silent as a whisper even in their armor.

“Was it not to your liking? Or is watching drunks attempt to dance just not of interest to you?”

They whirl around to face them and Uthvir can see clearly now their lamplike blue eyes, the color not unlike their clothing, and a smattering of freckles covered by bits of vallaslin. They have a feeling their expression under all that fabric is comical but the why they move is not, jerky and somewhat inelegant but speaking to a instinct for combat or quick defense even as they fight against it to avoid looking aggressive.

They straighten themselves awkwardly, clearly not sure what to do or how exactly to respond.

“I’m not very……….I don’t really enjoy that sort of thing.”

They raise an eyebrow. “Oh? Which part don’t you like? The drinking? The dancing? The hunting for partners?”

They gesture vaguely with their hands and eyes. “The whole thing really, I’m not really big on large groups and talking to strangers and all that.”

They grin. “Well then! How fortunate I intend to not be a stranger! My name is Uthvir.”

They don’t bow really, they just make a motion that hints to a bow, just a slight polite dip of the shoulders.

They look at them searchingly, they think it’s hard to tell with their face covered and they note suddenly, with their emotions so carefully controlled, almost too carefully as if perhaps manufactured somehow to be as bland or expected as possible. They make note of it to pick apart.

After a beat of some internal debate they reply “Inanallas.”

“A pleasure, Inanallas.”

“Yes, well if you don’t mind Uthvir I was planning to retire…”

They shift getting ready to turn and leave, so Uthvir takes ground, narrowing the gap between them.

“Come now, the night is still young and this I think, your first trip to one of my Lady’s holdings. It would be such a waste to go straight to sleep, stay and chat for a while.”

“I’m not really much of a conversationalist.”

“Then you can listen to me talk, I am very interesting after all.”

They grin again and see Inanallas very clearly look at their teeth, not with fear or concern as they can tell, but interest. A good sign, they think.

“I’m sure you are, but I doubt that would be very fun.”

They close the gap even further, they’re coming into arms reach now.

“Oh I think it would be, nearly anything is interesting when you have such interesting company.”

They begin to look nervously from side to side looking for an escape, probably not as covert in this as they’d like.  “I’m really not all that interesting.”

“Oh but I think you are. Very, very Interesting. I’d love to learn more about you, peel off all those layers, become closer.”

It’s laid on fairly thick but they’re interested in the reaction a pass will get them, plus they’d be lying if said they weren’t curious about stripping them down and seeing for themselves what they looked like under that, they had a feeling they wouldn’t be disappointed.

They get what they wanted immediately, Inanallas’s eyes widen and the visible strip of pale skin flushes a deep red, their whole body reacts leaving them frozen ridiculously in place. They can’t help but chuckle at the sight, they’re liking this little oddity more and more. They savor the sight and the increasingly incoherent attempts at a reply for a moment before beginning to closing the final stretch.

“Tell me, what would you enjoy? To be trussed up like a fresh kill? Or savored throughly.”

They reply finally, though it seems without thinking. “ You can’t truss what you haven’t caught.”

They can’t help but smirk. “I am a hunter, and you are in my sights.”

They look at them for a long moment, then spring into action.

They had not anticipated however that their prey would make a break for freedom.

Through the window.

Out into the forest.

Which is full of beasts.

They curse and jump out fluidly onto the grass and chase after them. It’ll be on their head if one of Mythal’s pets dies from their own idiocy with them the last person to see them. They give chase easily but their quarry is faster than they’d first anticipated, they might of considered a pleasant surprise if it weren’t for the situation. They also realize very quickly that Inanallas is used to the woods and moves expertly through the underbrush, not silently like themself but without any of the struggle they’ve seen other servants of Mythal have.

They gain on their target quickly and expect to end this merry race quickly.

Only the other elf has tricks.

Using a boulder as a base they create a ramp of ice and use it to rocket themselves further ahead, widening the gap again. Clever.

They’re even more interested now that it’s clear the other elf won’t run immediately into the maw of some beast and get them in flogged for it. The thrill of the hunt crackles through them and they change tactics to more that of a proper hunt. Their prey may be competent, but they do not know the terrain like Uthvir does.  

They use that to their advantage, letting them think they have lost them while the hunter instead slips out of their wake and moves to cut them off, using secret trails and hidden paths to propel them ahead of Inanallas’s path. They note the direction of their progress and chose a spot a long its course to lay in wait for them, obscuring themselves in all ways as they do.

Eventually the prey comes to their blind, now on more of a nature walk than a heated chase. Uthvir waits the span of a breath, then makes their move.

Inanallas whips around to look at them at almost the same moment they think to instigate their plan and breaks into a run again but it’s too late. The gap between them is too short and Uthvir is the faster of the two. They lunge and catching them by the waist and dragging them to the ground. Inanallas is far, far stronger than they’d anticipated, almost monstrously so and they have to work to keep them from freeing themself.

But they are laughing uncontrollably. Uthvir can’t help but chuckle a little too.

“Caught you.” They whisper into a long freckled ear.

An ear that had previously been covered.

They move to better look at the squirming figure in their arms. A figure they note with a thrill they can see the face of, the veil covering it had come off at some point and now the entirely of their head covering was nearly off from all the thrashing.

Their suspicions had not been wrong, they can see in the moonlight an unconventional but highly appealing face framed by a wild mess of black hair. They’re deeply freckled, with a small straight nose and very full lips Uthvir thinks, they would very much like to enjoy.

Inanallas’s hysterics work their way down to silent fits and Uthvir moves to pin them with a straddle, crossing their arms is they continue to watch the ridiculousness between them.

Inan finally looks up at them, they reply with a look that says “Well…?” and she almost immediately devolves back into giggles.

They reach over and pick up the forgotten head and face covering which they can see now are two separate elements that link together, allowing the head covering to be worn without the mouth piece, probably to make eating easier.

“Why I cannot help to wonder, do you even wear this?” they muse.

The hands that had been hovering around their face and chest as they’d laughed come to rest at their sides, so on Uthvir’s thighs, not that their complaining. It doesn’t seem however that Inanallas has noticed this placement yet as they continue to look around the clearing, putting thought to word. Their fingers tap and rub at the metal of their plate unconsciously.

“Well, I’m not good at hiding my expression….and well, um—so much stuff in Elvhenan is all you know, secret-y, double speaky um… whatevering. Subtly? It’s not good to be so expressive, people can easily use it against me and I never got good at it so I figured that this was the safest bet.”

They shrug noncommittally, the motion seems to make them finally realize   position of their hands and they jerk them away like they’d been burned.

Uthvir can’t help but agree now that they can see them unmasked. Their face has every thought in their head written on it in shining letters, they’d be eaten alive if anyone else saw it. It’s an extreme disadvantage, especially here in Andruil’s lands where the hunters would have scented them like blood in the water and abused that weakness to whatever end they wanted.

“I see your point.” They secret the material away and get up off their prisoner.  “Well this was certainly very fun.”

They give Inanallas a hand up which they take with surprise. They had considered continuing their teasing but didn’t feel like risking them bolting again. They’d try again when another time, when they’d properly cornered them.

Like clockwork hunt is called, naturally it’s a mixed hunt with their soft guests joining them as is the tradition when Mythal visits. It seems to be shaping up to be the usual suspects until some dots are connected or something like that among Andruil’s people and Inanallas is recalled to be some child who’d been found in the woods. They can’t quite remember if they’d heard of this before, it’s certainly the kind of thing people would talk about even centuries after it occurred but it also wouldn’t have been information that interested them too much. Until now that this. Now it’s exceedingly interesting. And goes a long way to explain at least some of their oddity.

A call goes out from the hunters that they should join, since they’re half wild as it is. Uthvir tries to gauge their reaction to this but cannot quite manage it through the many layers that seem to be their usual manner of dress, as far as they can tell they seem fairly calm.

Mythal looks over at them. “ What a fine idea, I’m sure they would be more than glad to join.”

Inanallas bows deeply in return and moves to stand with the others going on the hunt.

When it’s time to set out Inanallas is still weaponless, save for what seems to be two short daggers on their waist, and completely covered with no armor in sight. None of their compatriots seem to care about this either, so Uthvir doesn’t comment either.

The hunt goes to shit.

No one’s dead and the injured are already being tended to but they’ve been forced to camp for the night while the party recoups from the debacle. It had started off just fine, and would have ended that way if about 20 other creatures hadn’t scented the blood and decided to pay a visit. It had paid off in it’s own way since they got to see what was clearly more competence then Inanallas had wanted to show around that many people.

They were now setting to work mending armor for the the party, sitting off to the side silently hammering away on piece after piece, working them to the point where they’d be at least wearable and semi-functional. There were plenty of pieces in there Uthvir knew would have to be scrapped when they get back but no one was keen to make the trip back without something between them and a beast’s claws.

They wait until it’s their shift keeping watch and the rest are sleeping to go over to talk to them. Judging by the pile next to them and the pace Inan is going at they don’t intend to go to sleep tonight. They take a seat on a stone near them and grin.

“Care for a bit of company?”

They look over surprised then groan when they recognize them.

“Man, you’re relentless huh?”

They shrug. “I did say I wasn’t going to stay a stranger.”

They groan again and turn back to their work, hammering at a piece they had resting on their knee.

“Now that seems exceedingly foolish.”

“It’s fine. Barrier on my knee, I need the curve and it’s not like I’ve got an anvil here.”

“There are stones here, stones that are round.”

“This is more comfortable.”

“Beating metal with a hammer against your knee is more comfortable then using a stone.” They drawl out incredulously.

Inan glares over the veil. “Yes. Now cut it out you’re harshing my vibe here.”

Uthvir snorts. But settles in, going between watching them work, and watching for threats.

The next time Inanallas sees Uthvir it’s at some party thing or whatever in Arlathan. They have no fucking clue what it is they just knew they couldn’t get out of it. They’d seen Uthvir in their red ass armor (did they own anything but armor?????) but lost them again in the crush. So she’s hiding again, sipping on whatever it is they’re serving and picking at a plate of fruit. Mostly they’re just people watching, working on running commentary about the clothes and jewelry, testing out jokes they’ll never get to use.

“So this is where you are.”

Inanallas chokes on a grape and almost topples over the edge of the rail they were sitting on. The “almost” coming from a clawed metal hand grabbing the back of their shirt and yanking them back up.

They turn to see Uthvir laughing.

“Ass” they cough.

The red hunter puts a hand (the hand that’s not still on their back they notice) on their chest.

“How rude, I just saved your life, you really are still feral aren’t you?”

Inan clacks their teeth together at them in response, though they realize the effect is somewhat defeated since there’s cloth in front of their mouth. They unfasten it from one side and clip that end next to the other so they can make a respectable ugly face at Them. Uthvir just laughs and comes closer so their standing beside them, hand unfurling from their shirt but staying where it is.

“Taking off the veil? I’m flattered.”

“Well it’s kinda pointless now soooooooooo”

“I see, less flattered then. Now I wonder… what were you looking at so intensely?”

They peer over, out into the crowd. Eyes darting about for anything of interest, eventually the lock on to one tall figure.

“Hmmmm, Thenvunin looks particularly lovely tonight.”

Inan snorts and gestures aggressively. “When does Thenvunin not look like, insanely gorgeous? Like he’s distracting he’s that handsome!”

Uthvir looks over at them eyebrows raised.

“What?”

“Nothing, that’s just a very strong reaction.” They smirk obnoxiously. “ Is this a crush?”

Inan turns to face them sharply face an intensely exaggerated “Are you kidding me?” look. “What are we?????? 75???????”  

Uthvir cackles delightedly. “Maybe. I’m certainly not immune to his charms either.”

“Oooooooooo~” They waggle their eyebrows obnoxiously.

The claw on their back jabs them a little and they spasm.

“Alright, Alright. Push me off why don’t you…”

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you didn’t answer my question, Inanallas.”

Inan look at them incredulously.

“Stop doing that! For fuck’s sake, I didn’t even realize I didn’t answer!And if you’re gonna hound me on it yes I was looking at him, along with other people, I’ve literally been looking at people since I got here.”

“Why look at Thenvunin in particular? To admire the view? Or some other reason?”

They can’t parse a damn thing out from them, Uthvir’s expression and emotions are totally unreadable to their unskilled ass. They really needed to be better at that, it was kinda like, a super big deal.

“Why? What does it matter?”

Uthvir smiles like sneaky cat and leans on the railing, taking a quick glance back down at Thenvunin.

“I’d considered taking him to bed tonight and wanted to make sure I wasn’t stepping on any toes.”

Gently they place a hand on Uthvir’s cheek, they look shocked for a half second until they saw inan’s exaggerated “kind” expression.

“Uthvir, darling, you two are big kids, you can do sexy stuff with whoever you two want, you don’t need my permission.”

They place their hand on top of Inan’s, trapping it. Shit.

“Oh but Inanallas are you sure?”

“Yes I’m sure.”

They hum, keeping Inan’s hand trapped in theirs as they look back down at the man in question.

“It’s interesting….Thenvunin has worn that jewelry quite frequently recently… He seems to want someone to see him in it…”

Inan shuddered aggressively, jerking away as they made a face.

“Oh fuck you!”

Uthvir grinned hugely, like the evil mastermind they were. “You gave it to him!?”

“You just said—!”

“I didn’t say anything, I simply commented on his jewelry.”

“I—You tricked me!”

They smirk, it’s very very attractive. They want to punch it off.

“I didn’t even need to. You gave yourself away with out any prompting.”

Inanallas groans and puts their head in their hands.

“I’m going to diiiiiieeeeeeeeeee.”

Uthvir comes close, as if to comfort them, return a hand to their back and placing the other on their thigh.

“There, there. You’re not going to die.” They pause, the grin is palpable. “Imagine that will happen when Thenvunin finds out.”

Inan chokes.

[fuckingfinwions]

"I was talking to Finrod the other day, and he said something interesting about Alqualonde," Turgon said from the stool he sat on in the living room.

"Oh? What's that"" Nolofinwe said absentmindedly as he arranged the necklaces for best effect on Turgon's bare chest, being careful not to tangle them with the chains that ran between his nipples and his navel.

"He said that in Alqualonde, there isn't one family member who goes out in just jewelry. Everyone wears the same type of thing."

"Stick out your tongue."

Turgon did, and held still while his father removed the plain silver stud in his tongue and replaced it with one tipped in diamond.

Nolofinwe talked as he worked, outlining Turgon's lips in gold dust. "Alqualonde is a different city with a completely separate kindred of elves, it's no surprise some of their customs are different. With so much time spent in the sea and the wind, I doubt your adornment would last long."

"But have you ever thought of not doing it ourselves? I could attend court just as well in a robe like you or Fingon."

"No, you couldn't. Your are the wondrous display of our family's splendor, and it would be embarrassing if we could not attire you properly. Your ideas would not be listened to, as everyone would just wonder why you discarded our society so thoroughly." Nolofinwe began placing bangles on Turgon's ankles, with pale blue stones that perfectly matched the one at the tip of his cock.

"But it's not fair!"

"You are a prince, and have duties beyond yourself."

"Give it a rest, Turgon," Fingon called from where he was half-reading a book on the couch. "You're the handsome tall one, you fit your role perfectly, just like I have to be the heir and actually pay attention to policy debates."

"Uncle Arafinwe's family are all Noldorin royalty too though, and they don't."

"And that it one of the reasons why Arafinwe is spoken as a Vanya married to a Teler when anyone at court even thinks to mention him," Nolofinwe said. "Now, stand and spin slowly."

Turgon did, and made sure not to show his displeasure on his face where it would ruin the lines of his decoration.

"As always, there is the problem of what to do with the back. Perhaps it's time for another piercing or two."

"Actually, what Turgon said gave me an idea. I have a silk scarf embroidered with silver, and I bet it would fit through the nipple rings. It could wrap around in back as a sort of sash, and the weave is tight enough that any brooches would stay in place."

"Let's try it. If it looks too textile or like we're trying to cover something up, I'll ask Argon to paint something instead."

Fingon retrieved the scarf, which shimmered beautifully even indoors. He wound it first through one nipple ring, than behind Turgon's back, than through the other, tucking the ends of the scarf behind the band. Nolofinwe grabbed a few lightweight brooches, and stuck them into the fabric. He stepped back and looked in over with a critical eye.

"It will do for tonight, it's not such a terribly formal occasion. How does it feel, is anything pinching?"

Turgon stretched carefully, making sure not to tangle or dislodge anything; but if something did fall off he's rather have it happen here than in council. "Nothing's pinching, but the sash pulls differently than what I normally wear through my nipples, and it's a bit heavy. I don't think I can wear this for more than ten hours or so."

Nolofinwe nodded. "That's fine, we should be back long before then and you can go back to your basic set. But King Ingwe is visiting next month, and we will need a more formal way to display your back by then."

"Could we do a heavy necklace? Glorfindel wears one that has a dozen different places for chains to hang and drape more pendants."

"I've seen it; Glorfindel wears it practically every day. We'll find something that won't have your recycling the same tired aesthetic that often."

Turgon sighed, but looked in the hall mirror anyway. He did look beautiful, and the silver strands stood out well on his skin.