#they are simply slightly off-color elves

[patchofvoid]

Day 25 - Hardholder (aw) Urchin Githyanki (dnd)

Rules with an iron fist

[queers-gambit]

Bait and Switch

prompt: ( requested ) Adar knows you by surname and reputation, but makes a fatal mistake: underestimating the mutual desire to reunite with your husband.

pairing: Elrond x female!wife!reader -> hair color specified reader that does not specify race

fandom masterlist: The Rings of Power

word count: 7.7k+

note: did i steal the Targaryen hair color? "obviously," - Severus Snape. but don't let HOTD's wigs fool you - this hair color is NOT indicative of race.

warnings: reader insert for the haters, spoilers, cursing, angst, hurt and comfort, fuck tone of ellipsis 'cause Adar talks slow. POW!Reader (prisoner of war), violence, blood, injury, depiction of medical phenomenon (cauterization), slight gore (Reader bites off an Orc finger). healthy family dynamics, embedded Aragorn quote, Middle-earth fire is hotter than reality so JUST. roll. with. it. okay? okay. also, this requires a lot of imagination 'cause author invents really random lore but have fun with it. not edited, author can't see straight so what the fuck is this?

incarnate: embody or represent (a diety or spirit) in human form

"We found an Elf still alive, Lord Father!"

Adar watched lazily as one of his children stood over a body covered by toxic volcanic ash; twitching as it regained consciousness. "Kill it," he answered simply. The Orc snarled in pleasure and bent to grab the Elf's head; gripping their hair aggressively, yanking their head up - possibly snapping the Elf's spine - and lifted his blade in the air. However, the clump of hair was familiar and suddenly, Adar was barking, "Wait!"

Not many Elves had this particular hair color. It was dyed from soot and ash, but he could recognize the bright, platinum white-blonde hair. While some Elves were extremely fair yellow-blonde, this was white - like the purest of snows. And Adar only knew this trait belonged to one single bloodline.

The Incarnated, a single brood blessed by the Valar to give them unnatural strength and skill in battle. They were impressive, formidable foes; and typically, never lost a fight, battle, or war. They were absolutely brutish, almost impossible to kill, yet humble, generous, and kind.

Their aim always found the bullseye. Broadswords able to sever bone. Morality skewed more positive than simple neutrality. Silver tongues sharpened to prick the ears that listen.

However, it should be noted that even the Incarnated cannot withstand against the eruption of a volcano.

The Orc snarled with confusion now, hissing through his bloody teeth but not lowering the Elf. Adar strolled over, glaring at their captive, but slowly lowering himself to a squat as the Orc presented his finding. Adar's eyes squinted, reaching out and musing the trademark locks out of the Elf's face; smirking as he caressed her cheek free of ash.

He growled your name, sight still hazy from the eruption of what will later be known as Mount Doom - yet could still recognize sounds. Slowly, you blinked and tried to focus, groaning as pain in your scalp burned and prickled; spine bowed from the horribly painful position.

"Adar?" You whispered in confusion.

"You remember me."

You scoffed, slurring slightly, "You left quite a lasting impression."

His hand dropped to push hair from your neck and shoulder, revealing a long blemish from his dagger years ago. "And here we meet yet again," Adar chuckled. "Release her," he told his child, who instantly dropped you with a grunt; ash puffing up on impact. "Come," Adar offered his hand as you tried to sit up with trembling limbs, "we've still farther to go."

"Fuck you," you seethed, spitting at him; ready for the pain to end after the displacement and turmoil of your people. You had been with the Númenoreans, along with Commander Galadriel, and this... "King" Halbrand; celebrating victory against Adar's first volley of Orcs when the explosion happened; spewing toxicity into the earth, through the air, and evidently, over the area to distinguish what will be known as Mordor.

"Hm," Adar considered your weak form, chuckling. "Get her up," he commanded, standing, and watching as chains were slapped to your wrists and ankles before being tossed into a bloody, maggot-infested, wood-rotting wagon.

Seemingly eons away, Elrond was being informed of your assumed demise. Your husband refused to believe it, but by the solemn look of the messenger, his greatest companion, Galadriel, he knew there was weighted truth to her words.

"Did you see her?" Elrond asked.

"See her fall? No - "

"Did you even look for her?"

"Of course we did, but it was too dangerous to linger longer than what we'd been there for."

Elrond's head shook, "No. No... I won't believe it - "

"I know it's difficult to accept, but... She's gone, Elrond."

"I would know if my wife is dead," Elrond snarled uncharacteristically. "Believe what you wish, but I know she still lives."

Galadriel knew better than to argue; she, herself, spent years of denial after Sauron murdered her brother, Finrod. So she gave Elrond space to process what he'd learned.

Yet while a circumstantially redeeming quality, Elrond was stubborn and confident in his morals and opinions. So, he refused to believe your life was lost; something in his gut twisted knowingly, assuring you were just misplaced and surely, soon to be home. Elrond knew you had a flair for the dramatic, so, he just prayed this was one of those times - where you wouldn't reappear until the very last second to make an entrance.

Yet Adar took every precaution to ensure you did not escape or could be rescued. He didn't parade you around, he kept you hidden away to prevent gossip from revealing your location. You were constantly left chained to posts by rusting irons, no comfort offered, no reprieve; nothing to pass your annoying suffering a little easier. You were fed just enough to be kept alive, you were allowed to wash yourself with a single cloth every few weeks - but typically with an Orcish audience watching, claiming they're "on duty". You lost use of your tongue after so many months had passed without a single indication aid had been deployed - hope shattered and futile.

You wondered if Elrond knew. You worried he thought you lost to the war. In vain, you prayed he didn't give up on you. However, you were logical and logic screamed at you that nobody would come - there was no point! You would've believed being told someone perished, too, if you heard of such circumstances.

Despite being an Incarnated, you were emotionally drained. Though, it's worth noting that under normal circumstances, you would've NEVER ended up in this position; but because of your vulnerable state and the opportunity was too good to pass up, Adar prided himself on "defeating you". He didn't know that you were beyond patient; waiting, observing, listening, leaning routines and schedules. Any opportunity you identified, you searched for anything that could help you escape; something sharp, small enough to pick the lock of your irons. You were Incarnated - your will to survive (even out of pure spite) rivaled that of any enemy.

Camp to camp, you were moved. Day by day, you lost a little more sanity. Nights grew cold, days short.

You were surprised when a pair of Orcs lumbered into "your" room, unlocking you from the post but keeping the chains on your wrists in place. They yanked you behind them, shoved you into Adar's tented shelter then forced you to your knees before the food-filled banquet table.

"And of course, there's her," Adar waved at you lazily, smirking when his newest prisoner of war sat forward with a gobsmacked expression.

She whispered your name, head snapping up to find your companion, Commander Galadriel, sat at the opposite head of the table to Adar. You smiled slightly and whispered her name softly, aware of your appearance and how straggly, despondent, and wary you must look.

"What is the meaning of this?" Galadriel demanded, the emotion in her thick voice making it crack.

"We found her," Adar smirked, "after you and your people abandoned her."

"We did not - "

"She's been... An honored guest of ours," Adar cut Galadriel off. "Her hair - it's a rare trait, I knew who she was when she was found. Figured she could truly help... Turn the tides in this war."

"You do not know what you've done," Galadriel breathed. "If her kin knew you held her, they would raze your camp into the dirt and return your children to darkness."

"You think... I do not understand the risks of holding an Incarnated? I have faced them before, known their wrath... But against Sauron, it was a necessary risk to take."

"Why?"

"You must see," Adar explained, "that it is not His lies which must be extinguished. It. Is. Him." He paused, revealing, "And I can help you do it." Adar leaned forward in his chair, "I can help you destroy Sauron, and should you value your friend's life, you will let me help you."

"What help could you possibly provide, Orc?" Galadriel spat, now leaned back casually in the chair Adar sat her in.

"Uruk," Adar corrected in Black Speech, standing from his seat to venture towards the side of the room. He stood before a plain wooden box, lifting the lid, and revealing in his hands:

"Morgoth's crown," Galadriel sat up. "I was told - "

"There are many stories of what happened after the Silmarils were pried from its setting," Adar validated. "But I was there when Sauron re-fired it to fit Himself. I was there when He kneeled to be crowned. And I was the one who used its power to slay Him."

Adar set the crown to the table, your stomach growling at the sight and smell of full platters.

"If what you say is true... Why did He return?" Galadriel asked.

"Because I had not yet found you, as I have her," he gestured at you.

"What part are we to play in this?"

"It is said the Three Elven Rings saved your people from fading. Is it true?" When Galadriel didn't answer, Adar nodded at one of his children standing over you; making the Orc bash you in the temple. "Is it true?" Adar repeated over your whimper of pain.

"Yes," Galadriel grit, glaring at the small dribble of fresh blood dripping down the side of your face. She decided red wasn't your color - no matter how much your husband liked seeing you in it.

"Then perhaps... Together, this crown and your Rings would be powerful enough to truly destroy Sauron forever. The Deceiver believes he is still beyond my grasp... But I know he hides in Eregion. And I suspect you know for certain... Halbrand is Sauron... Isn't he?"

You laughed a little, "Halbrand? Sauron? Come off it, you're mistaken. Go on, Commander, tell him - tell him." Galadriel was silent as she was overwhelmed by her memories. "Commander, tell him he's wrong! Halbrand isn't Sauron, tell him he's mistaken!"

Adar mistook the silence as her being defiant, nodding to his son again in permission. So, the Orc swiftly backhanded you with enough force, it literally toppled you backwards with a groan.

"I kept her alive... For you," Adar growled, bearing his teeth at the Elleth. "But I'll execute her at nightfall if you continue down this path of resistance. The fate of that city and your friend now rests on your ability to put aside your pride." Galadriel's teary eyes casted over you, sprawled out on the floor - not finding the use in sitting up to your knees again. "I suggest you find the will to do so... If you can, for everyone's sake." Adar removed the crown from the table and placed it back in its box, Galadriel hissing your name, only receiving a nonverbal thumbs up to indicate you were okay. When the Father of Uruks returned, he clipped matching irons to Galadriel's wrist before snatching up his sword, tossing over his shoulder, "We will speak again. I'll give you until nightfall to decide."

The Orcs filed out of the room after Adar, leaving you on the ground and chained to a spare post. Slowly, you tried to sit up and use the beam as support; grimacing in pain that made your friend question, "Are you hurt?"

"They're not the most merciful lot," you tried to joke with a smirk, but it turned into a wince, "but I've been through worse, I'll be fine. Listen to me, Galadriel," you sniffled, "you can't tell Adar anything. I don't care if he's gutting me, you don't tell him - "

"I would not have your life ended on my account, it would be as if swinging the sword myself!" Galadriel argued with heat.

"Adar is not your ally," you scoffed, "nor are the Orcs - look at what they've done! Continue to do! Do not be so foolish! So blinded, please, I beg you, my friend. If you tell him about Sauron, yes, your enemy might be vanquished, but you could be creating an entirely new and future enemy that all of Middle-earth must endure. My life is not worth that."

"It's worth more."

You smirked, "Don't forget who I am, friend; I am Incarnated, and I will not die easily nor without a fight. Adar will not succeed in my death so easily."

Galadriel shook her head, "If I do not indulge Adar with information I have and you lose your life because of that, Elrond would never forgive me."

You gave a watery smile, sniffling, "How is he?"

The Elf shook her head, "He's... He refuses to accept your fate, operates on a shorter fuse, he's mourning - even if he doesn't acknowledge or believe he is."

"It's not that I don't love you, my friend, but... I'll miss him the most," you let a single tear fall, a wistful smile toying on your lips. "You'll look out for him, won't you? Just... Just don't let him be alone, please. He'll try to push you away, but be patient; he'll need you and I'll rest easier knowing you'll be there."

"I won't do as you ask," Galadriel grit. "Look at you!"

"How can you be so confident that the moment you tell Adar what he wants to know, he won't kill me anyway?"

"Because Adar appears a man of rationality - unlike Sauron - "

You scoffed, "None of them are rational, Galadriel! They have their own agendas - and none of them benefit the likes of us! Don't tell him anything else, I don't care if he's gutting me like a pig, you don't say anything!"

"I can't agree to that," Galadriel shook her head, "I won't, not when there's a chance we can both get out of this alive."

"And if we survive just to witness the eradication of our people!?" Galadriel was silent, bowing her head. With a sigh, you asked, "Where's Nenya?"

"Safe with Elrond."

"Oh?" You chuckled. "How'd that happen? You have to break his finger off to put it on?"

Galadriel gave a breathy chuckle, "He needed a bit of convincing, but with the greater good at stake - he was left no choice."

With a smirk of amusement, you nodded slowly, then requested, "Could you promise me something decently reasonable?"

"I can try."

"If you make it outta here and I don't - "

"Do not say that!"

"Galadriel, just - stop for a moment and listen to me, please. If you get out of here and I do not, tell Elrond what happened. Tell him Adar found me after the volcano erupted, kept me prisoner, and that I tried." Tears brimmed your waterline, "Tell him I tried to escape, to get back to him... But if I don't make it and you do, please, tell him I love him - more than anything. Tell him I'll wait for him on white shores."

"Tell him yourself."

As promised, when night fell, Adar returned. His second in command, Glüg, approached you with a brandished sword and laid it at your neck with a cruel and twisted expression.

"Have you made your decision?" Adar questioned, Galadriel looking between him and the threat to your life. "Choose wisely, or I'll let my children bleed her; right here, right now. Tell me what I've asked."

"Don't tell him shit, Galadriel!" You barked in a last ditch effort, earning a balled-up-armored fist to rock your jaw. You spit a glob of blood to the side, snarling at Glüg, "You hit like like a bitch." He spit on you.

With a huff, Galadriel exposed, "Yes, Halbrand is Sauron. He's in Eregion to craft Rings that will allow Him to dominate my kind... And yours."

"Every kind in Middle-earth," Adar corrected.

Quickly, Galadriel rushed, "But He will not attempt escape until His task is complete. And that gives us a momentary advantage."

"'Us'?" The Father repeated.

"Unlock me."

"Galadriel! Think for a second!" You snapped, but Glüg pressed his blade deeper into your throat. You seethed, frustrated and angry tears turning suffocating. Adar approached your friend, eyes trained on her, causing the Elleth to look away in discomfort as Adar undid the iron cuff on Galadriel's wrist.

"As we speak, Y/N's husband, Elrond, hastens from Lindon with an army of Elves..." She boldly looked at Adar, you struggling against the blade at the sound of Elrond's name, "And Nenya, my Ring."

"Galadriel! Stop, don't say another word! Silence yourself!" You begged, whimpering shrilly when blood flowed from Glüg's disgustingly dirty blade.

"I see," Adar turned from the Elf.

You were ignored and Galadriel rose from her seat, following Adar while continuing, "Once he arrives, he will seal off the city, loose Celebrimbor from Sauron's grasp, and then together... Uruk, you and I will eradicate all trace of Sauron from this world. Never to return."

"And what then?" Adar questioned.

"Any Ring that have known his touch must be destroyed."

"I meant, what then for the Uruk? Will your High King permit us to return home in peace? Or will he proceed with his plans to invade Mordor? The shadow has not only overcome you, it has overcome all of Elvendom. In the end, your drive to prove your virtue will work right into Sauron's designs."

"You speak lies," Galadriel whispered as if in disbelief. "Hoping I will reveal something."

"You have already revealed everything I hoped you would and more."

You groaned and tossed your head back into the beam; a harsh thump echoing as Adar charged out of the tent with Galadriel and Glüg on his heels.

"Where are you taking her!?" Galadriel struggled in her restraints, unable to stray far from her seat as two Orcs entered the tent and began unclipping your irons. You didn't fight them, rolling your tired eyes as they began dragging you out on your backside. "NO! NO! Where are you taking her!?" Galadriel sobbed, on her feet, trying to follow.

"Remember your promise," you told her, forcing yourself to find contentment that your friend could be the last friendly image your brain would register.

"No, please! Please! You will not profit from her death! I have told you what your Father wanted, now release her! Her death will not profit you, but instead, will bring about your utter ruin! Please! Y/N!"

The Orcs ignored Galadriel's pleas, dragging you from the tent and amongst the snarling, snapping Orcs. Adar stood before a cart big enough for a single prisoner, smirking, giving his children command in Black Speech to load you inside. He watched, telling you, "Galadriel says your husband is on his way with an army. Surely, the sight of his wife might give Commander Elrond pause. The knowledge that you're alive will bring him to my table."

You were strung up by your arms, spread in exposure, tarps thrown over the cage to effectively cut you off from the rest of the world. You felt the cage rattle as you were lugged through mud. You couldn't identify hardly anything... Until a familiar horn bellowed in the short distance, making your chest tighten. While excited by the prospect of a rescue, you loathed the idea of Elrond running head first into a trap.

Your Elven ears picked up on the sound of thundering horse hooves, knowing your people (kin, too) were charging towards Adar's army; who were swiftly gathering in organized ranks. Your cage came to a halt, and a moment later, you flinched when the front-facing tarp was ripped down and the light above Eregion glared down on you. You were greeted with the sight of your husband surging closer on horseback, time seemingly slowing when your eyes locked and he registered who Adar's prisoner was.

You flinched when an Orc pressed the tip of their blade into your already injured neck, reopening a wound to send a single stream of blood steadily flowing.

"Halt!" Elrond called in Sindarin, the entire procession coming to an almost synchronized halt. He sized up the enemy, but kept letting his eyes glaze over you - disbelief coloring his expression. Elrond's horse stamped in place, Adar stepping forward to speak.

"Welcome, Commander Elrond."

"Y/N!" A voice shouted from the army, Elrond's head snapping over in time to see your siblings - three brothers, two sisters - dismounting their horses.

"Wait, wait!" Elrond barked at them, holding a hand up; your siblings halting themselves.

"Wise," Adar taunted, your irons noisily rattling when you tried to adjust your stance.

In Sindarin, you called to your eldest brother, "Do what needs done, do not spare my life for this foolishness! Take them down! Be done with it! Rid us of their filth!"

"I should think... Commander Elrond would like to hear my proposal first," Adar told you casually.

"I think they should put you and children in the dirt!" You spat, earning several snarls, growls, and hisses from the surrounding Orcs.

Elrond encouraged his horse forward, standing in the sunlight highlighting 'no man's land'. He glared at Adar, but asked you, "Are you hurt?"

"Only my ego," you assured.

His eyes flickered over to Adar, then nodded, "I will hear you first."

"You're wasting your time," you told him in Sindarin.

"On you, it's not a waste," he answered stiffly, almost angrily. "I would have her set free for the duration of our parlay."

"But of course," Adar agreed, being carted away at his Blackened command. Due to the tarps hanging over the other 3 sides of your prison, you lost sight of Elrond; forced to blindly follow instruction and behave.

The Elves were not permitted weapons in the Uruk camp.

Elrond dismounted his horse with Vorohil and your eldest brother, Iallion, who insisted on going to gauge your state, in time to watch the Orcs yank you from the cart and drag you into a tent as if your legs were of no use. It was all he needed to know to understand your treatment the past few months you've been 'missing'. His hand clapped Adar's shoulder before the Father of Orcs could pass him by, snarling, "If I come to learn you've been mistreating my wife, I assure you, there will be consequences."

Adar just chuckled and lead the way into his tent. Several Orcs shoved Elrond's shoulder and forced him, his second-in-command, and your brother to follow.

Inside, Elrond noted the walls lined with Orcs, all surrounding their prisoners of war - you and Commander Galadriel. The blonde Elleths were shackled to the same post, both standing, though, you were leaning into the beam for support as it appeared you could not stand on your own. When you noted their arrival, you perked up slightly, but not enough to wash away the worry he felt.

Elrond was offered a seat, just staring down Adar, who began, "The Ring you carry... Show it to me."

Elrond snarled, "Show me the care you've taken of my wife."

"She is perfectly healthy... As you can see. The Ring, Commander..."

Elrond glared for several long minutes, then answered, "A foolish act if I had brought it here."

"You are a courtier," Adar pointed out. "More suited to wielding a scroll than a sword."

"You've never seen me wield either."

"And yet," Adar's head cocked slightly, "I have faced the Incarnated and won. Beside Sauron, there's none alive... Entitled to those rights."

Iallion demanded in a snarl, "How came you by my sister? You say you won against her - where?"

"Didn't win a fucking thing! The bastards found me; facedown in volcanic soot after the battle with the Númenoreans. I told you to keep charging - you should've kept charging," you answered, earning a swift kick to the back of your knee; making it buckle and ram the post.

"Touch her again and I'll slaughter everyone in here," Elrond threatened.

"You so much as twitch - "

"And one of your children shall kill me? My wife? My men? You think I am not aware of that fact, do you honestly think I wouldn't risk life and limb for my wife? Do not. Touch. Her."

Adar just stared at Elrond, then nodded, "Fair enough. Though, if she speaks again... Cut out her tongue."

Elrond, Iallion, and Vorohil all sat forward when Glüg's blade chimed as it was deployed from the sheath; another couple Orcs shuffling and snarling forward to box you in. Your eyes rolled when the same dagger pressed unforgivingly to the pulse point beneath the hinge of your jaw.

Adar continued, "Sauron is my enemy as much as yours... Give me what I need to defeat Him and let us be rid of Him."

"Is it not you that has done his bidding by laying siege to Eregion?" Elrond countered.

"Eregion has fallen into shadow... It belongs to the Deceiver now, as does every Elf within its walls."

"Not Lord Celebrimbor," your husband tried to refuted, desperate to believe there was still some good left to fight for.

"It was Celebrimbor himself who welcomed Sauron in. You cannot save him... You can...save...them," Adar explained, naturally making Elrond look to you still held at knife point. Galadriel was uncharacteristically silent, chained to the same post, facing one another. "It is an earnest offer... I suggest you take it," punctuated Adar before he rose from his chair. "And leave Sauron to me..."

"Right, 'cause that worked sooo well last time," you scoffed, making every Elven eye widen in surprised shock. "You're the reason He still lives, you're forcing us all to do your bidding and fight against Him!" When an Orc's hand rose in a sudden movement to grip your chin - intending to hold open so Glüg could amputate your tongue - you simply reacted out of panic by erratically whipping your head to the side in time to catch the Orc's hand. His pointer finger landed between your teeth, too slow on the draw; losing the finger to the single, incredible chomp as if a root vegetable.

The Orc screamed in pain, spitting the finger and causing black blood to coat your lips like sadistic make-up.

"Lord Father - "

Adar silenced Glüg with a hand in the air, the injured Orc being escorted from the tent; hissing at you in a way that made you smirk. The Father of Orcs glanced at you, demanding, "Quiet," before slowly moved around the banquet table. He complimented Elrond, "You have the beauty of your foremother, Melian of the Valar. If even a fragment of her wisdom is in your veins... You must know you cannot defeat me in battle. I will outmaneuver you... My forces outfight yours... And you will fall."

"Not before you have painted the sands of the Glanduin black," Elrond stood to meet Adar, "with the blood of your kin."

You smirked slightly, always having faith Elrond would choose responsibility over emotion - something Galadriel was increasingly struggling with and unable to master. Glüg lowered his blade when he heard Elrond's threat - thinking this war was meant to played with strategy, not overwhelming numbers that would discard Orcish life without thought or consideration.

Adar assured, "My children have endured cruelties your bravest couldn't bear to hear spoken aloud."

"Are you prepared to spend their lives so freely... Adar?" Elrond questioned, using the Uruk's name as if an insult. "Are they?" He asked the room, letting his eyes bore into those of few Orcs to truly drive his words and plant seeds of doubt.

Adar didn't respond, pausing, then demanding, "You may haggle over Galadriel... But it's the Ring for your wife's life. What is it to be?"

Elrond's eyes locked with yours, noting the way your head shook. He slowly stalked around Adar, his hand unsuspectingly unclipping the decorative detail of his cloak's shoulder broach. His teary gaze lifted to lock with yours, portraying his apology and grief, then turning to Adar, "Ask me on the field, when the neck with a blade against it is yours."

Orcs hissed.

"Very well," Adar accepted, sounding genuinely disappointed. "I suppose not all vows are kept sacred... I will meet you there... With your wife's head on a pike."

Elrond held Adar's attention, relenting, "If that is to be the way of things, I should like to bid her farewell."

Adar's eyes shifted to Glüg's over Elrond's shoulder, the Orc assuring, "He's unarmed."

Interesting, you mused to yourself, he saw Elrond's broach but doesn't report it? Perhaps this war caused tension among their legion - beginning to question the man they followed.

After Adar's nod, Elrond turned to approach the beam in record break time. "My love," he greeted softly, tears evident and ready to spill. You both just stared at each other, unable to accept or process being within proximity to one another after being apart for so long - and only now, reunited to say goodbye. "Forgive me," Elrond whispered in Sindarin.

"Win," you answered in a matching hushed volume. "And if you don't, meet me on white shores."

He nodded, hand lifted to caress your cheek in disbelief; shuddering at the feel of your flesh. "I've missed you past the point of words, my star," he frowned.

"No more than I you."

You snuggled into his hand, stomach lurching when he leaned forward to press his final kiss to your lips. It wasn't passionate, but something chaste for show only; your chained hands reaching to hold his free one as it was all you could reach. The broach's center was pressed to your palm, your tear streaking through grimy cheeks when he pulled back to rest his forehead on yours. "I love you," he swore.

"I love you, too," you whimpered, bottom lip trembling with emotion as Adar looked to the ground. You wished to say your acting skills were that good to be truly deceptive, but in reality, something in your intuition refused to let you believe you'd survive this.

Hating the look of devastation on your otherwise devastatingly beautiful features, Elrond leaned in again before hushing against your lips, "Be ready."

"Be smart."

Elrond nodded, kissed you one last time before pulling back. Almost as if in pain, he turned, unable to handle being so close so improperly; causing him to snap, "Iallion, Vorohil," who flanked his tail upon their exit of the Uruk tent.

You sniffled, leaning on the beam in exhaustion, still playing into the facade you thought Elrond was trying to silently communicate. You weren't defeated yet; the pin kept in your clenched fist to cause indentations from the star-point design.

Outside, Iallion and Vorohil questioned Elrond's confidence, being told a legion of Dwarves had been summoned to march to Eregion's aid; telling his second to guide the army to the battle while he held the city. Before trotting away, Elrond pulled on his helmet and told the two in Sindarin, "And it starts with the rescue of my wife and decimation of this camp."

You used Elrond's pin to pick Galadriel's lock first, insisting she had to flee before anyone caught you. She tried to refuse, something about loyalty or other, but you all but shoved her away from you and snarled for her to leave you.

"Elrond's near," you reminded her, "I'm not going anywhere."

"He's coming for you," she realized.

"Did you have any doubt?"

She chuckled, "I suppose not."

"Get out of here," you cocked your head, indicating she flee out the tent flap. You focused on your own lock as the sounds of invasion echoed around the camp. Praying Galadriel found a way to disguise herself, you struggled to unlock your irons; hearing someone rush into the tent behind you.

"You!"

An Orc was surging up to you in record time, bloody dagger in hand, twisted snarl curling his lip. You dropped the pin on accident, unable to retrieve it; but having enough mind to wait until the Orc was a foot from you, stepping back, extending your chains. The Orc slashed directly into the weakened metal, severing your bond, but the loss of tension made you flop backwards; rolling over your shoulder and onto your feet.

The Orc, ever graceful, hacked wildly at you; forcing you to go on the defense and dodge his attacks around the tent. Three more Orcs filed in; but however you might argue, luck was on your side for your brother, Iallion, came charging in with your sister, Eliriel.

"Y/N!"

You caught the sword your brother tossed, slashing the offending Orc's head from his shoulders as your siblings disposed of the other three enemies with ease.

Realizing the Orcs were vanquished (for now), you turned to your brother and raced into his embrace. He grunted and caught you, petting the back of your head before releasing and letting you hug your sister.

"Do you need medial aid?" Eliriel asked in worry, pushing hair from your shoulders to expose flesh - checking for any injury or bloody blemish.

"No - "

"Can you fight?"

"The day I answer no, you've permission to put me in the ground yourself," you scoffed, nodding at your brother. "You came back?"

"Elrond's leading the charge, they're razing the camp," Iallion explained, "otherwise he would've come himself."

"Where is he?"

"Come, we can find him," he insisted, eyes raking over you. "Sure you're all right?"

"Never better," you chuckled without humor, intent on holding the horrors you've experienced at the hands of your captors close to your chest. "Now, we gonna stand here and talk or go hunt some Orc?"

"YES!"

The Incarnated swarmed together in a protection fashion around you; a sibling shield, if you would, due to your lack of armor. Individually, the Incarnated were almost impossible to defeat, but together, they rivaled armies; exactly as the Valar intended. However, while fearsome in battle, you were still but a few and the Orcs were a grand-many; almost easily overwhelming any Elf they encountered.

Exactly why you were separated from them.

You faced against four different foes, turning as if dancing steps to something intimate; blade flashing in the sunlight, ringing as it clanged against blackened blades and rusted armor. It was easy to cut off your retreat or direction back to your siblings, forcing you back several yards as the Orcs swiftly closed in.

"Y/N! DUCK!" You heard from behind you; not thinking, just dropping like a sack of potatoes.

Horse hooves passed you, looking up in time to defend against another blade as Elrond engaged the others. You were both fairing decently until a moment of distraction - where an Orc swung his axe into Elrond's chest and knocked him from his horse - leaving an opportunity for your attacker.

With a scream, the Orc's blade sliced your chest in a deep slashing, managing to cut into your neck; blood starting to stream into your torn and tattered prison clothes. You were blinded by stinging pain, whimpering as your non-dominant arm curled across your chest as if gauze to lay over the injury; dominant hand occupied by your sword, defending yourself with weak whimpers.

One final hack made your sword arm collapse into the ground and for the Orc to stomp on your wrist to hold you there. You were pinned. The Orc laughed and sadistically reached down to swipe a grimy finger into your wound, causing you to hiss through teeth, only to lift his finger to his mouth and taste your life force. The sight alone made your stomach lurch, a panicked cry escaping your lips.

Elrond heard the enemy's laugh and lifted his head in time to see it lick your blood; noting your cry and position beneath the Orc. His face steeled into something beyond infuriation. The three Orcs that filled the space between you and he were quickly dispatched, Elrond engaging your attacker - letting you scramble backwards into a tree trunk for a front row viewing.

With a wild swing, Elrond swiped at the Orc; who reached up to grab hold of his helmet, which was freed when Elrond rolled from under him. The Orc swung, blade whistling; catching Elrond's cheek and sending him to the dirt, much to your worry. He glared at the enemy, wiping at his injury as the Orc growled, "I'm gonna spill her guts at your feet, Elf!"

Elrond's eyes flickered to you, taking the threat as credible; swiping the sword away, using a second blade to inflict injury before driving his longsword into the Orc's belly - driving him backwards into the basket of a trebuchet (or catapult). When pinned, Elrond drove his dagger into the Orc's sternum; leering over him in Sindarin, "Die."

Elrond yanked both weapons free and turned for the machine's mechanisms; yanking a rope and setting the trebuchet into motion. "No, no, no, no," the Orc begged when he realized what was happening; lifted off his feet only to be flung with the basket of rocks through the air, over the width of the Glanduin, and into the walls of Eregion.

Your husband wasted no time to drop the rope and turn for you; rushing forward and sliding to his knees beside your bleeding form. "Elrond, oh, my stars," you rushed with a bloody grin, reaching for him with your dominate hand as the other still tried to staunch your injury.

"I knew you weren't gone, I knew it," he breathed, taking your face in hand, "I'm so sorry, my love, I'm so sorry. I should've come sooner - "

"You got here right when you were supposed to," you assured, sniffling. "Have you - Have you seen Galadriel? I set her free, have you seen her?"

"Why was she not with you?"

"I sent her away, I wasn't sure how long I'd take to escape," you trembled, "then Iallion and Eliriel got me out."

"Why didn't you run?"

"I did..."

"No, away from the battle - "

"I ran to find you," you whispered, offering a sad smile. "Oh," you breathed, fingertip ghosting over his cut cheek, "that'll scar."

"It's nothing," he shook his head, "but yours isn't - I have to get you away from here - "

"There's no time," you rushed, "so, I need you to do something for me."

"Anything."

You swallowed thickly, "Clean your blade, put it in the fire."

Elrond's brows furrowed, glancing over his shoulder to see the trebuchet set ablaze by his men; the Orcs fleeing from the danger, leaving a rare opening. "I don't... Oh," his eyes widened, nodding and rushing to do as you bid. He cleaned his blade on his cloak as he sprinted to the burning machine; sticking his blade in, then returning to your side. "Can you stand?" He asked.

"If you can get me up," you nodded.

"C'mon, love," Elrond whispered, hands under your arms and hoisting you up the bark with a small grunt. "I've got you - "

"Elrond!"

He didn't think, just gripped the blade of his dagger and flung it in a fluid motion over his shoulder where you were staring. The weapon struck an approaching Orc in the throat; gurgling black blood as he went down, but Elrond didn't even bother to watch. He just returned his attention to you, "C'mere, starlight, I've got you."

"Commander!" A different voice shouted, your siblings rushing to the scene. Iallion, as the eldest, gave command to the others, "Circle - circle up! Get around them!" As the Incarnated surrounded you, Elrond was assisting you towards the flames. "Commander, orders, sir?"

"Stand guard," Elrond replied, easing you to your knees. "All right, my love," he paused, checking the blade, "think it's good?"

You nodded, "It's good. Just, uh... Aim, please."

He huffed, "As if I'd miss." He pulled his sword fully from the flames, the thin metal burning bright red; even sizzling subtly. "Ready?"

"Wait, wait," Eliriel bartered, finding a chunk of wood and placing it in your mouth. She lowered to her knees and hooked her arms around yours; restraining them behind your back in a vice. "Okay... Okay, good - do it, do it now, Elrond!" She begged, seeing blood flow a little more freely now that you weren't trying to plug the wound.

When your husband lowered the blade to your injury, you lost consciousness after screaming blood murder until air depleted from your lungs. The flesh was cauterized as cleanly as Elrond could manage, satisfied when he noted no weeping openings.

"Commander! What orders, Commander!?"

Elrond was torn between his wife and his company - but Iallion encouraged, "Go, brother. We'll get her somewhere safe."

With a scoff, Elrond shook his head and carefully pulled the wood from your mouth; gathering you off your sister and into his chest. "Where's safe anymore?" Elrond asked rhetorically in Sindarin, standing with you in his arms.

The camp was in complete disarray, Adar realizing the Elven Calvary had destroyed nearly everything in their path, almost to a barbaric extent. He would've questioned the displayed Elven bravery, but his mind knew better and reminded him he threatened Commander Elrond's wife... No wonder the camp was stamped into the ground.

The sun sank, darkness spread, and Adar listened to report after report, all confirming the Elves were fairing better than expected. Many Uruk lost their lives, more were injured, and the Orcs were encountering outmaneuvers no matter where they attacked.

Adar returned to the tent he left you and Galadriel in... Finding empty irons, no prisoners, and several of his children - dead. There was no confirmation as to who the wounds were from, but considering the swift yet strategically fatal injuries, he assumed the Incarnated had come to your rescue. Death was only graceful when dealt by their hands.

"Perhaps, Lord Father," Glüg reported, "we should sound the retreat. The Commander Elrond is formidable, angry over his wife's injuries..."

"No," Adar refused.

"He slaughtered half the camp to find her!"

"We do not retreat," Adar growled, making his son shy back a step. "Send him in..."

"He will kill our own kind!"

"Send. Him. In. Commander Elrond is on the battlefield, his wife smuggled away - "

"His wife is on the field, Lord Father! Khor saw her," Glüg gestured at his brother, who nodded vigorously at Adar.

"All the more reason... Send him in."

After your wound was cauterized, Elrond managed to find a horse and rush you a safe distance into the woods with Eliriel to guard you. Upon awakening, you were stiff with pain, but infuriated by the obvious delay in consciousness; rolling to your feet and testing the bounds of the near-fatal, scabbing wound.

"You can't go," Eliriel insisted, watching you stretch, "you'll tear open - "

"Adar kept me alive just enough for this moment, I have business to settle with him. I've been on the sidelines too long, sister," you snapped, "and injured or not, I will not leave Eregion to the darkness. There's still a chance - our people still fight. Will you join us? Or shall you turn tail, as our uncle did? Demote yourself?"

Your uncle, another Incarnated, had been a member of the original alliance of Elves against Sauron; one of the first to leave Valinor on a noble quest to Middle-earth. He was one of the reasons your kin had been blessed, but he's also the reason you know what happens if Incarnated refuse their Holy Calling... Facing Morgoth's apprentice was traumatizing beyond belief, your uncle leading alongside Galadriel's brother, Finrod, in many abattle. Yet Sauron's craft was vast, weaseling into your uncle's heart and brain to the point of insanity; so much so, that upon your uncle going AWOL, Finrod was slain in response.

Galadriel never blamed you nor other Incarnated; she blamed only Sauron, rationalizing he was who fucked up your uncle's head so much that the Valar took back their gift. A forfeited Incarnated was gazed upon with utter contempt until driven into exile, and even then, they aren't immediately granted immunity nor entrance into Aman, - or the Undying Lands - but instead, must plead for redemption. Needless to say, your uncle gave your kin quiet a public mess to rectify and it was a grave insult to throw such an accusation at an Incarnated.

"Sister?" You prompted.

From the dirt, Eliriel nodded and reached for your hand; allowing you to heave her onto her feet. "You'll need armor - do not argue!" She snapped with a pointed finger when your mouth opened. "Come."

Eliriel lead you through the woods at a mild pace as to not irritate your injury. Using the darkness to your advantage, you snuck around until happening upon a fallen Elleth who was about your size and body type. Swiftly, you took her armor with a prayer in Sindarin, securing it, then latching on her weapons belt.

"Ready?" You asked, seeing Eliriel nod. "Stay close."

"I'm older than you!"

"Then act like it!" You laughed over your shoulder, sprinting from the treeline and directly towards the fray taking place before Eregion's walls. You snatched a full quiver from a dead Elf, not stopping; plucking up an abandoned bow, still surging; then snatching whatever spent torch-arrows you could, doubly determined.

Blood transformed impacted dirt into a marsh; bodies littering the land, a city on fire, and Death permeating the air. Your sword sang with glee at each blow; injury holding strong, giving you fuller permission to move as you needed. When you raced into battle, you were an entirely different breed; purely animalistic, relying on your senses to cause the most damage. All you could process was you needing to kill.

You happened to be in the right place at the right time because just yards ahead of you, several jagged arrows thumped into your comrade, Rían's, body at varying angles. She swayed and dropped to her knees, revealing ahead of her, a small gaggle of Elves - Elrond included. Rían reached for a torch arrow as you noted the barrel of oil by the Grond and quickly connected the dots.

It was as if the Valar arranged it themself: where one Elf fell, an Incarnated steps up to assume responsibility without hesitation nor prompt. Three additional arrows struck Rían, who fell dead, and there you stood; causing your name to fall from your husband's mouth and for you to spring into action. Without hesitation, you ignite your own arrow, notch it, aim, then release before rushing towards Elrond; seven arrows impalied the place you vacated. "What're you doing here!? It's not safe!" Elrond demanded when you lowered to his level behind a barrier of dirt.

Your arrow found it's mark, catching the entire Grond and surrounding Orcs in a violently gnarly explosion. You smirked at your husband, anchoring him by his neck to place a desperate, messy, slippery kiss to his lips. On retraction, there came a loud, wet smooch sound; you nodding and answering, "Winning a war."

requesting rules and masterlist

TROP masterlist

[mngo-jii]

UM!!! hiii im kinda new to this but if requests are open and its cool w you (im sorry if you had a list of what you were and weren't willing to write i couldnt find it 😭) i'd like to request daniel page x male!reader where they've been dating for a while but have been rlly lowkey abt it and their friends find out and are surprised but also not surprised at all

totally fine if you cant though! have a good day!

“ A LITTLE DISCREET. ” d. page x m! reader

wc: 963

letter ✉️: i’m alive... god i’m alive... hello male readers, time for dinner. sorry food today is a little mushy and moldy, mother is trying her best 🙁

“[MC] and Daniel? Ah! Such good friends, they are!” — Lottie, answering about you and your boyfriend.

Without a doubt, you and Daniel were good friends, absolutely. I mean, you two were always side-by-side. Arms linked, shoulders glued to one another, teasing remarks thrown at each other.

You two even shared a dorm. You and Daniel were good roommates, for sure. You two would often study together on the dorm room table. Textbooks stacked up, several notebooks open, concentrated faces, and scribbling quills.

On top of that, you and Daniel’re also good classmates. Always pairing up with each other, sulking when you aren’t.

Always saved a seat for the other, sneaked answers scribbled on a small torn paper, passed notes to one another... The like.

Lottie is definitely right. And everyone could see it; even the teachers, the paintings, a few house elves.

...However, for a pair of good friends, you two seem to be closer than Robyn and Kevin... Well, with your faces slightly flushed and your fingers wandering in hopes to find the other’s. With lingering glances at one another and content expressions relaxing on your facial features.

Each and everyone’s Hogwarts uniform isn’t all the same—of course, that goes without saying when it comes to everyone’s body proportions.

Though sometimes you could even identify your own necktie from another’s, even in the same house. It might be a small odd spot on the material that’s color is a little off from the rest, or maybe a rather short thread hanging out from the hem...

However, you stare at you and your roommate’s necktie placed on the dresser in the morning as you prepare, one is shorter than the other. You don’t even think about which one is yours, grabbing which your ‘gut’ tells you is so—which just so happens to be Daniel’s.

And the next morning you pick up his again, and the morning after, and the morning after... Not that any of you would notice.

But sometimes it might not be an accident, sometimes it might not even be your tie.

Like times where he’d lend you his robe when you forget your own, or when you lend him yours.

Sometimes none of you had even forgotten your robes—you simply swap. And for what?

Well, none of you really had the chance to establish the answer. Not when no one asked, anyway.

It’s rather ironic, though? One moment, you and your roommate are deeply delving into the pages of your textbooks, and then you’re leaning towards him, pressing your lips against his, the next. Daniel’s hand grabs a fistful of your shirt, yours grip on the arm of his chair.

Not to mention the fact you and your classmate hold hands under the table during class. Oh, well.

Ah, the flushed look on your faces when Professor McGonagall offers you—“A reminder that the Forbidden Forest is strictly off-limits. I know its mystery and secrets may tempt you. But trust me. Only danger and peril will await those foolish enough to enter.”

And you and Daniel nod as if you didn't just share a kiss in that same exact ‘off-limits’ location last night.

At one point you and Daniel have grown on edge of whether or not your friends had found out.

So you were a little befuddled to see the astonished look on their faces when they caught Daniel—leaning over to place a quick peck on your lips before hurrying to class.

Of course, there was no reason to further keep your relationship a secret, so you tried to unravel the truth as casually as possible.

“Oh. Daniel and I are dating.”

There’s a mix of distinct reactions on their end—surprise, betrayal, aloofness? They’re either too dramatic or too indifferent. But it’s only for a mere second.

Lottie thinks back on the numerous times you and Daniel had acted a little odd and the realisation hits her like... A gust of wind.

Because if she were to be honest, she saw it coming from a mile away. I mean, what else would explain the way she’d doodle you and Daniel together?

That one painting with you and Daniel on one of the benches, fingers intertwined, faces inches away from one another yet you two were only merely having a chat? Well, there’s your explanation.

Ivy titters out loud, a wide smile spread across her face. “I knew it!”

Kevin takes a moment to pause and decides that it wasn’t really much of a surprise, yet he questions why you didn’t tell them sooner—s’well as Robyn, who runs her fingers through her hair with a rather agitated face. “Why didn’t you tell us?!”

“—Well,” she cuts herself off before you could reply, “I kind of already knew, so. I just needed confirmation.”

You blink. “You did?”

“Oh come one, what pair of ‘good friends’ sneak out into Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom to kiss anyway?” Robyn eyes you as she places her hand on her hip.

...Perhaps you and Daniel weren’t so discreet after all.

It's rather ironic though, isn’t it? Because despite you and Daniel being boyfriends, you still act like you haven’t escaped the puppy love stage. Maybe you never will. Not with the dopey grins you exchange from across the room.

Not with the way your hearts still feel like they’re beating out of your chests as you latch onto each other, nearly out of breath from how bad you’re laughing.

The blush forming on your cheeks as you stop momentarily and get a glimpse of his euphoric face, with the same smile you just can’t get enough of.

Or when he crawls into your bed instead of his as you stare at your ceiling, softly rambling about how nice it would be if you and him went outside right now and flew around the castle. Daniel isn’t listening unfortunately. He’s staring at you.

Not when he still gets surprised at the way you suddenly grab ahold of his hand with a grin on your face. A grin that tells him everything he needs to know—that he’s safe. That he’s home. He furrows his eyebrows at the ground with a poorly fought-back smile.

a/n: im falling off so bad aghh jesus take the wheel. anyway you when you and your homie go from delving into textbooks to study to delving into each others lips

[slusheeduck]

Stars In His Eyes Fal finds out about naming ceremonies Baldur's Gate 3 - post-game “It simply must be perfect. I’ve been waiting for this for just a tenday shy of a century, you know.” The elf seated across from them was a nervous woman, with a slightly pinched face and a few strands of golden hair falling from her otherwise-perfect bun. Perhaps she was more poised in her day-to-day life, but she’d only been harried since she’d first come in.

“Auralae, darling, what do you think I am? A kobold?” Astarion scoffed as Falerin refilled the woman’s cup. “I know perfectly well how important a naming ceremony is.” He turned his head, tapping his pointed ear. “I don’t have these for fashion’s sake, you know.”

The elf sighed. “I’m sorry. I just…there are so few full elves here in Neverwinter, and so many have…assimilated.”

“I know, completely ghastly. How do any of us manage?” There was plenty of sarcasm in the words, but Falerin was fairly certain he was the only one who caught it.

Like all new clients, they’d met in their back garden after sunset—it was a lovely space, with nightblooming flowers and lit by Neverwinter’s iconic colored glass lamps. They were seated in a cozy little tea area on the porch, wrought iron chairs just holding the tiniest bite of chill as they sat. This was the tenth person coming to Astarion about embroidery since he’d quietly started taking on jobs—all word of mouth, and not one questioned the fact he only did meetings after dark. It was Neverwinter, after all, and artists—good artists—always had their quirks.

Falerin often stuck around for moral support—“No” was still a difficult word for Astarion at times, and every now and again a particularly pushy client needed some pleasant encouragement to pay and leave, thank you. But other than that, he was more than content to let Astarion do all the chatting. He was good at that, after all.

Astarion leaned forward, pulling over a pen and paper. “Now, obviously we’re going to go with a sun motif, yes? What’s your daughter’s name now?”

“Aurae. After me, naturally.”

“Naturally. Do you know what her new name will be?”

Auralae made a despairing little noise. “She hasn’t told me. She said she wants it to be a surprise for the ceremony. Gods, I hope it isn’t embarrassing. She’s…an odd girl, sometimes.”

“Most elves her age are, but I’m sure it will be a lovely name. I’ll hold off on embroidering her child name, then—if you’d like, after the ceremony, I think we could put her child name on her left sleeve and her adult name on the right. What do you think?”

“Oh, that’s…that sounds lovely, actually.”

“Mm. For now, I think…a sun on the back, rising over her shoulders and the rays stretching down to the hem. Family name along the collar, what do you think of vines in the front?”

“Well, I…I was rather hoping for flowers, actually. Sunflowers on the front?”

“I can do sunflowers on the front, easy.” He finished a preliminary sketch, then pushed it toward Auralae. “Like this?”

The elf woman gave a soft gasp. “Oh…oh, yes, I can see where you’re going with this. And with the gold thread…yes. Yes, I think this is what I’d like for her gown. How you managed to guess that perfectly…”

Astarion gave a satisfied little smile. “I’m very good at knowing what people want.” He looked to Falerin. “My love, if you could go over payment as you walk her out?”

Falerin nodded, getting up to his feet and waiting for Auralae to get up as well. “Now, for something of this caliber, it’s about five hundred upfront. Then in about a week, you can come by and see how it’s progressing and make suggestions…”

He guided Auralae out, thanking her for her business, then snagged a blanket as he made his way back out to the garden. He kissed the top of Astarion’s head as he sat down, tucking the blanket around the both of them, then looked up overhead with a content sigh.

“How much do you think we could wring out of her?” Astarion asked, scooting as close to Falerin as he could. “Couple thousand? Maybe we could get up to ten if she wants revisions.”

Falerin laughed. “We don’t need the money, love. I thought you did this for the fun of it.”

“Hells no. I don’t do anything for the fun of it—if there’s a reward, I want it.” He clicked his tongue, looking at Falerin in faux affront. “Honestly, it’s like you never went on a terrifying illithid adventure with me.”

Fal laughed. “Suppose you can’t ever take the rogue out of you,” he teased, then fell into a content silence as Astarion’s face burrowed against his neck for warmth. “Is that really a thing with elves? Choosing a name once you turn one hundred?”

“Mm. Big ceremony, massive to-do,” Astarion said lightly. “I’m told the parties that come afterward are incredible.”

Falerin was quiet for a moment, then looked down to Astarion, brows creasing. “…you didn’t have one.”

“I’m so pleased you can do math, my love,” Astarion quipped. He sighed. “But no, I didn’t. Just another thing Cazador took from me.”

Falerin pressed his lips together. “So you never chose a name, then.”

“I did. I chose Astarion.” The vampire settled back with a long breath, looking up at the starry sky overhead. “My parents were unconventional, giving me a name like that—most elf children get names like Faen or Bryn—or Aurae, like today--short things meant to be discarded. Mine was unusual.” He gave a wry smile. “I don’t suppose it’s a surprise that I come from dramatic sorts—I remember that much about my family. Loving, though. Very loving.”

He went quiet for a moment, eyes simply fixed overhead. Beneath the blanket, Falerin took his hand, giving it a bracing squeeze. Astarion took a breath, not looking at him.

“But…as everything started falling away, as I lost more and more of myself, Astarion Ancunín was all I could cling to. So, when I was fairly certain I’d hit one hundred, I decided to keep it. Some days, it was all the sense of self I had left—I couldn’t risk letting it go.”

Falerin listened quietly, entwining their fingers together. His thumb lightly stroked Astarion’s, and he looked up as well, watching the stars twinkling overhead. “Do you know why they named you Astarion?”

“I do. It’s ridiculously soppy, are you ready?” Astarion pulled away just enough to grin at him. “For the stars in my eyes when I was born.”

Fal smiled back. “That’s cute,” he says. “But…yes, a little dramatic.”

“Isn’t it? Thank the gods none of that dramaticism made it to me.” He chuckled, head falling to rest against Fal’s. “I’ve never actually told anyone that before. And don’t you dare tell anyone else.”

“It stays with me, don’t worry,” Falerin says with a laugh. “I see them, though.”

“See what?”

“The stars in your eyes.” Falerin lifted his head, smiling. “Whenever you’re happy, they’re shining.”

Astarion’s face was very soft, just for a moment, then he snorted. “Terrible. Remind me to put that in my folio of terrible lines—granted, the only one who’ll get them now is you. Brace yourself.”

“Braced and ready.” Falerin sighed, looking up overhead. “I was just named after my grandfather. Mother’s side, obviously.”

“Did you like him?”

“No. He always smelled like boiled cabbage.” He squinted. “But I don’t think I’d change it. I’ve gotten fond of it over the years.”

“I have, too.” Astarion kissed his cheek, giving his hand a squeeze. “Let’s get inside so I can start actually planning out that robe. I can feel that woman pacing from here.” Casual Banter Masterpost

[xknivesandpensx]

Like Pieces of a Puzzle

Chapter 2

Summary: What if Harry wasn't the only extra student called upon to participate in the Triwizard Tournament? Far from the most popular candidate, Draco not only has to take on the trials but also deal with his unexpected feelings for Hermione. Will he be able to face the challenges as well as follow his heart?

Chapter length will vary. I'll be referencing both the books and movie versions. Some things from what I've previously written will be mentioned, all of which you can find here.

And for those who asked to be tagged: @dayane245love

The Triwizard Tournament was about the only thing anyone talked about for the rest of the evening. An overabundance of excitement filled the common room, many in awe of the competition. The age limit held scattered complaints, most loudly by Fred and George, but the rest of the students entertained themselves by attempting to guess the student likely to be chosen from Hogwarts.

Any remarks concerning their new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher rose every so often, seeming to float in the background, wondering if he’d manage to stick around longer than one year.

Hermione bypassed the discussions and sat on one of the large red armchairs nearest to the fire. The flickering flames warmed her up some. Eyes filled with tiredness, she debated on heading straight to bed, like the majority had done, yet no matter the temptation of being tucked away under her covers, she insisted on remaining awake.

During the feast, she purposely prevented even the smallest glance in Draco’s direction, which proved to be difficult because he sat in her peripheral vision. The temptation faded a degree after finding out house-elves worked in the kitchens.

The very idea of them forced into labor without proper wages or vacation time through her into a minor outrage. The wonderful array of food before her suddenly lost its appeal and Hermione refused to eat another bite.

Her stomach felt empty, nevertheless the knowledge of the injustice kept any complaints from leaving her lips. If just to distract herself she turned her attention to the conversation happening a few steps from where she sat.

“Cedric, probably,” Harry mentioned, answering Seamus after he tossed the question out of who he thought would enter. “I heard him saying he’s going to put his name in the cup. I think he holds a pretty good chance.”

“If grades come into the equation, he’s a rather good student and a prefect,” Hermione added in agreement. Of course, other possibilities remained, seeing as no explanation of how or why the goblet chose certain people became part of Dumbledore’s speech.

“Plus, he’s handsome.” Lavender practically giggled as she and Parvati passed by. “And tall too. The way his eyes glisten in the sunlight, I can stare at him for hours.”

Ron missed the slight glance she made in his direction, oblivious to her attempt to get a reaction, seeing as his focus never left Hermione. “Probably why you think he’ll be picked, isn’t it?”

Slightly taken aback from the insinuation, she gave him a pointed look. As if she’d be so shallow. Hermione couldn’t deny Cedric held an attractive air about himself as well as a good heart. Last year during the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff Quidditch match he immediately offered to replay the game after realizing Harry fell off his broom thanks to the Dementors showing up.

But no one seemed to reel in her attention quite as promptly as Draco, the single person she had trouble keeping her thoughts away from.

“I don’t see how that has anything to do with it,” Hermione replied, noticing the silence, as if everyone stood awaiting her reply. “Besides, I don’t like people simply based on their looks.”

“Then I must have been imagining you swooning over Lockhart. You even knew his favorite color.” Ron scrunched his nose upon the memory, not overly fond of the professor from the start.

She felt the slightest touch of a blush, the whole ordeal somewhat embarrassing. Reflecting on her minor crush by herself differed from being called out on it. His claim filled her with a thin layer of indignation. “That was ages ago and I certainly didn’t swoon.”

“Are you kidding, all the girls had a thing for him.” Fred came over, arms crossing over the top of Hermione’s chair. “What a mess of a year. Couldn’t teach us anything useful either.”

“Even our own mother went all red in the face around him. Humiliating, really.” George added, head shaking in the process. “Who cares about him in a time like this anyway? We’ve got to figure out how to get past the barrier.”

“I think it’s a good thing they raised the age limit.” Hermione knew otherwise many of her classmates wouldn’t think twice about entering, heedlessly ignoring the stated dangers. “What do you think you’ll possibly come up with that Dumbledore hasn’t already thought of?”

“Oh, Hermione, you have such little faith in our creativity.” Fred patted her lightly on the shoulder, unaffected by her brow raised in skepticism. “He may be smart but mark my words, by the time people start putting their names in, a foolproof plan will be in motion.”

“I’m sure it’ll be brilliant,” Harry said, his sarcasm vaguely detectable, despite his curiosity. “I’m rather happy sitting in the crowd watching the excitement for a change.” Of course, the matter of his scar burning and his dreams still left a haunting concern.

If only Sirius would get back to him quicker. Both Ron and Hermione were anxious about the contents of the letter as well, yet no sign of Hedwig.

“It’s all rubbish. Why shouldn’t Fred and I get a fair opportunity,” George complained before taking note of his sister approaching. “You’re on our side, aren’t’ you, Ginny? I know Ron is. Now if Percy was still here, we’d never get any peace and quiet about it.”

“I actually agree with Hermione,” she replied, trying to avoid catching Harry’s gaze, if merely to ensure she didn’t lose her ability to speak. “You’d both get yourselves killed. If Mom ever found out what you’re trying to do, she’d probably send a dozen Howlers.”

“So much for family encouragement. Come on, George, we have work to do.” The twins walked off, heading up the flight of stairs to the boy’s dormitory, already whispering back and forth to one another.

Hermione turned her observation back to the fire, feeling out of sorts again. The moment on the train kept coming to mind. To Draco. He was prideful in the most infuriating way. But as he so thoroughly voiced his arrogance, he revealed himself to fall rapidly into anger, however, ready to run at the smallest sight of endangerment.

A few snowballs cutting across the air seemingly from nowhere would scare anyone off and he did run away swiftly after she hit him in the face. Though if Lucius indeed abused him, a part of her felt bad over the whole ordeal, not that she forgave him for being the reason Buckbeak nearly got beheaded.

He held some favorable traits, though none of which even he’d concede to. Instead, he preferred to echo his father’s views, taking them on as his own. Or maybe he truly believed in the hierarchy of bloodlines. Hermione couldn’t pretend to know more than he allowed.

Yet she liked him, her heart too vulnerable to forgo the tempting awareness of her emotions, which became irritating as they appeared to intensify rather than diminish over the years.

“Is something the matter?” Harry asked, the first to notice she stopped participating in their banter. “You’re spacing out again.”

“You did the same at the feast too. Don’t tell me you’re thinking about those house-elves again.” Ron’s face took on a slightly annoyed grimace, tired of the topic already.

Hermione let out a breath, allowing herself to go along per that specific focal point, unable to admit the real reason. “And why shouldn’t I? Honestly, I’m surprised neither of you are on my side about this. Eating food by those forced into employment. What they’re put through, it’s absolutely vile.”

“For the last time. They enjoy working,” Ron loudly announced, ears turning pink after he noticed a few people glancing in his direction.

“I’m sure they’re treated loads better at Hogwarts than Dobby with the Malfoy family. Besides, you can’t starve yourself in protest, that won’t do them any good.” Harry knew what it felt like to be deprived of food, he couldn’t imagine choosing to do so.

“I’ve got some leftover corned beef sandwiches if you want them,” Ginny offered, having eaten one of the three Molly packed for her. After Hermione nodded in eagerness, she took off to get them.

“You’ve got to be hungry if you’re willing to eat those,” Ron said, looking put off. Despite repeating his dislike of them, his mother still handed them off before heading to the station.

Hermione rolled her eyes at the comment, much preferring to take the leftovers. She’d care about breakfast in the morning and so forth. No matter her swirling thoughts of Draco, something had to be done for the house-elves. They deserved proper compensation, just as anyone who worked.

Her worry also extended to Harry.

The urge to ask if he was okay quickly died upon her lips, realizing within placing the question put too much at risk. Simply talking openly about his troubles rather defeated the purpose of keeping it a secret. So, she watched instead, as he rubbed his eyes, glasses momentarily sent askew.

He felt her silent inspecion, able to surmise her train of thought. And while his mind continued to circle Voldemort, his exhaustion started to win out. A yawn escaped, providing ample reason to fall onto a soft, inviting mattress, hopefully drifting into a dreamless sleep. “I think I’m going to head to bed. See you in the morning.”

Hermione gave a short wave. Ron soon followed in after him, passing Ginny on the way. She graciously took the sandwiches, enjoying the salty taste of the meat. Finally, her stomach started to feel a level of satisfaction, no longer growling in want of food.

Ginny tarried for a few minutes as her friend ate, waiting until they were the only two remaining in the common room. She sat near the dying embers. A single log remained aflame, able to provide a blaze of heat.

“Did you happen to notice if Harry was watching Cho during the feast?” Ginny asked in a small voice, after taking a moment to further reflect, hoping maybe she misread his interest.

Hermione swallowed her last bite before sitting on the ground next to Ginny. “He never said anything to me about her. But it’s not really something we talk about. Ron might know, then again perhaps not.”

After all, she remained taciturn, disinclined to talk about her fondness towards a certain blond.

Cho Chang stood out, making her hard not to notice. She was an exceptionally pretty Ravenclaw girl with long, shiny dark hair and a beautiful smile. She came off a tad shy regardless of being surrounded by many friends. There were evident justifications why Harry may find his attention drawn to her.

Hermione knew she had a crush on Harry for quite a while now, they’ve spoke about it at length. Yet because she was Ron’s younger sister, Ginny assumed he thought of her as the same.

“It’s okay,” Ginny finally said, attempting to put a bit of mirth in her light smile. She lifted her hands and outstretched her palms towards the fire. “I mean it’s not really okay, but I get it… Is it silly to hope someday he’ll look at me differently?”

“No, of course not. It’s hardly your fault he can’t see how wonderful you are.” Hermione squeezed her arm in a reassuring matter prior to bringing her knees to her chest. “Boys are stupid that way. Unable to comprehend what’s right in front of them. Or in some cases, so brash it’s almost senseless to think they deserve your consideration at all, especially when they make it evident loathing one another is the only thing you can share.”

Although Ginny’s heart lingered in a worn sort of pain, she tilted her head at the last sentence she spoke. Wondering, if not for the first time, as they never really got into the topic in regards to Hermione (perhaps she even avoided in means of listening rather than indulging her own feelings), if she liked anyone.

“That’s oddly specific.” Ginny turned to fully face her, seeing no more than Hermione’s profile as she kept her eyes forward. “Are you talking about anybody in particular?”

Hermione felt her words get stuck in her throat. She considered disclosing the information to Ginny in the past. Nonetheless, a spare moment never really seemed to make itself available and in the off chance it had, her resolve to do as such vanished in an instant.

Telling Ron and Harry barely registered as an option. Neither held the capability of understanding given their shared animosity. What a shock she’d conjure. They’ve both turned on her for trivial reasons in the past, telling McGonagall about the Firebolt in case of jinxes being one. She feared the degree would be much worse if the truth of her emotions were to be known.

A little more guarded this time (in spite the attempt to loosen her reserve), Hermione gave a minor nod. She expected it possible to console herself if met with derision, not as if she suspected Ginny to be of that nature. Maybe she sought no more than an understanding. Some empathy in a matter not many fathomed a possibility.

“Promise you won’t tell anyone. No one can know.” Apprehension clung to her voice, but Hermione forced herself to press on after Ginny promised. “It’s Draco.”

The two words came out in a hushed whisper, Ginny almost didn’t hear it. “Draco Malfoy?” she repeated in question, all the while trying to absorb the information. “The person who calls you horrible names and constantly goes out of his way to make things difficult for everyone? Why?”

A fair thing to ask. Why indeed.

“It’s hard to explain. Probably because I don’t quite get it myself. It’s so pointless too.” Hermione got to her feet, suddenly struck by nervous energy. “There’s just something about him. Something beyond the surface. You know how it is when you’re around Harry. The jolt you feel, how it somehow turns your brain off. A single moment and you’re ready to fall apart… It’s horribly painful yet at the same time it fills you with a warmth like no other, constantly tossing you between wanting to run away as fast as you can and letting every sensation wash over you.”

Ginny got up as well, taking Hermione’s hands in hers. “Trust me, I know it all too well, but listen. If it were anyone else, I’d be right by your side. He’s still a Malfoy no matter which way you look at it, but I don’t suppose you have any idea if he feels the same?”

“No, I can’t imagine it’s possible.” She blinked away the tears forming, giving her head a shake before pulling away. “I hold no expectations, nor should I. But I can’t turn off my feelings. It doesn’t work quite that easily. What am I supposed to do?”

Although aware of her parents and siblings’ hostility in regards to the Malfoy family, not unjustly placed, as well as her own strife, Ginny pondered a few options, coming to a single conclusion in means of helping themselves. “You and I are going to make a deal. If someone else comes along, provided we deem them worthy, we give them a chance. Even if we like other people, there’s no harm in it.”

“As if anyone would notice me.” No one had in the past. Her classmates thought her to be a know-it-all and she certainly didn’t believe herself to be very pretty. Hermione knew her persistence grated others, even the two she considered the closest.

The mere idea of another boy maintaining a romantic interest once getting to know her, seemed outlandishly unrealistic.

“You do know Cormac McLaggen has a thing for you, right?” The clueless expression appearing hardly surprised her. “Not that you should give him a moment’s thought. He’s rather unpleasant to be around.”

“I’ve noticed as much, not that we’ve really spoken,” Hermione replied. “I’d prefer if he keep it to himself.” She mulled over the suggestion, honestly doubting Draco could be pushed aside for another. “I suppose there’s no harm in trying. If it were to happen. But I won’t make any promises on this idea of yours working.”

“We won’t know until we try.” Ginny shrugged and they shook on it regardless. Only in her third year, her hope went out for Hermione more, wishing to aid in dispelling her troubles.

“Come on, let’s get some sleep. We can talk more tomorrow.” She headed for the stairs, Ginny trailing behind. It felt as if an immeasurable weight lifted from her shoulders, finally breaking her silence on her long-held secret.

And there was a kind of compassion and relief in such a friendship. Ginny hadn’t berated or chastised her admission. The bewilderment came off expectedly. However, concern pooled in her blue eyes, the yearn to be of some use evident.

Still, hesitation lingered, tugging at her chest. Draco practically stole her affections the moment they met one another and by no means was he releasing them, no matter how unaware he may be of it. If someone came along, she knew, try as she might, her heart wouldn’t fully let them in.

[shadows-starlight]

Shadows and Starlight

Book 79: The Butterfly Ball

-

The first day of spring had arrived in the forest of Ebonvale, and with it, the Annual Butterfly Ball.

See, every year, on the first day of spring, butterflies from all corners of the world flocked to the Glen near the edge of the forest and a grand celebration would take place. The host was none other than Madame Butterfly herself.

Not the Madame Butterfly from Giacomo Puccini's opera. This Madame Butterfly was the ruler and protector of all the butterflies across the world, and every year, she would make her grand entrance for the forest-goers to see.

Two of them being a veteran, our very own Malakar, the sorcerer, and a first-timer, his baby daughter, Aurora.

Now, if there was one thing that Aurora has come to love since living in Malakar's lair, it was butterflies. She loved the way they fluttered and floated around the garden, landing on the brightly colored flowers to gather nectar.

So, taking her along with him to the Butterfly Ball was a no-brainer, especially since it had been years since he attended the ball as a young boy. They made their way down a winding forest path into the heart of the Glen. The Glen shimmered with the vibrant colors of wildflowers and people had gathered to watch the butterflies make their colorful entrance.

"Are you ready for your first Butterfly Ball, little one?" Malakar asked, gently brushing one of her auburn curls from her face.

Aurora cooed and gurgled in response. Malakar chuckled at his daughter.

By the time they got to the Glen, a soft melody of harps and flutes began to fill the air. Then, the trees began to part revealing an entire swarm of butterflies flying out into the Glen. There were butterflies of all shapes, sizes, colors, and species; Peacocks, Painted Ladies, Swallowtails, Mourning Cloaks, Blue Morphos, Monarchs, Goliath Birdwings, and so many more.

Aurora was amazed.

She had never seen so many butterflies in one place before.

“Ah, Malakar! My old friend!” A voice rang out.

The sorcerer turned to see a graceful figure gliding towards them. This was Madame Butterfly, herself. True to her name, Madame Butterfly had colorful wings sticking out from her back and had a gown that shimmered from delicate butterfly wings. She had kind, sparkling eyes that could melt any stone-cold heart.

"Madame Butterfly," said Malakar, giving her a little bow and planting a gentle kiss on the back of her hand, "it's a  pleasure to see you again."

"Likewise," replied Madame Butterfly. Her eyes settled on the tiny bundle in Malakar’s arms.

“And who do we have here?” she cooed, bending down slightly to take a closer look at Aurora.

Malakar replied with pride, "This is my daughter, Aurora and this is her first Butterfly Ball."

"Well then," said Madame Butterfly, gently taking the baby in her arms, "Welcome to Ebonvale's Annual Butterfly Ball, Aurora. This is where butterflies of all shapes and sizes gather together to celebrate the arrival of spring and the time when some of them will call the Glen their home for the spring and summer."

Madame Butterfly reached out her hand, and as if drawn by her presence, several butterflies landed on her fingers, their wings shimmering. One butterfly fluttered off and landed on Aurora's tummy. She giggled as its delicate little legs tickled her.

Malakar smiled sweetly at his daughter as she played with all of the butterflies. Elves, sprites, and faye folk followed in Aurora's example and the ball went into full swing. Some conversed with the butterflies while others simply basked in the beauty of the event as music played gently in the background.

All throughout the day, people danced, sang, mixed, mingled, laughed, and played amongst the butterflies and wildflowers of the Glen.

Madame Butterfly placed a flower crown she made from the wildflowers on Aurora's head, which caused some of the butterflies to land on it, making the crown a lot more enchanting. Aurora clapped her hands and squealed at the sight of the crown.

The festivities of the Butterfly Ball lasted all day long until the sky became littered with sparkling stars. Aurora rubbed her little eyes and Malakar knew in an instant that it was getting close to her bedtime.

Malakar picked Aurora up, while she was still wearing her flower crown, and she nestled against his chest as the peacefulness of the Glen lulled her to sleep.

"You’ve made memories today, both of you," she said softly. "The butterflies will remember your daughter just like they remembered you."

Malakar nodded. "Thank you, Madame Butterfly. This place will always be a sanctuary for us."

With a final smile, Madame Butterfly fluttered away, her figure blending with the butterflies as they began to settle into the Glen for the night.

As Malakar began the journey home, the gentle flutter of butterfly wings followed them, carrying the magic of the Glen into their dreams.

[maybluebird]

The Fox and The Shepard Prologue Chapter 2

Read Chapter 1 here

Prologue Chapter 2: The Fox Meets the Shepard.

Syngorn, 822PD.

 I stood at the top of our second-floor steps staring down at all the people who were chattering away at the grand entrance of our home. I crinkled my nose at the thought of having to meet so many people, I felt a soft gentle hand smooth down some of the hair on top of my head and I looked up to see my mother Rathiain looking down at me with a gentle smile. A lot of people say I look like my mother as we shared similar appearance traits, long fluffy pale pink hair, porcelain skin and striking lavender eyes. The only thing we didn’t share when it came to looks was the two moles that were placed right under my left eye, that was something I had gotten from my father.

           “You look beautiful my darling.” She said smiling at me, I returned her smile.

           “You look pretty too mother.” I said, my mother was dressed in a long deep purple dress that tightly fit her figure showing off all her curves, her hair was delicately pinned up in a rose braid design with a purple gem holding it in place and matching jewelry hung from her neck and long pointed ears. She took my hand as she started to drag me down the stairs her black heels making clicking sounds as it made contact with the marble floor. I noticed curious glances at us as we made our way down to the bottom of the steps. I didn’t recognize anyone in the room, many of them were elves but the room was filled with a variety of different people. I felt excitement bubble in my chest taking in the faces of goblins, dragonborn, dwarfs, and many others. My mother led me towards the grand room that my parents used to host their events. I instantly caught sight of my father Almar, who is a rather tall high elf wearing a dark blue suit that fitted his slender figure, his short brown hair was combed neatly, and he was happily talking to another elf I didn’t recognize. I broke free of my mother’s grasp running towards my father “Father! Father!” I shouted as I wrapped my arms around his leg, I heard him let out a small sigh.

           “Sonia darling it is not very lady like to run and shout.” He scolded me, I felt my excitement fizzle as I let go of his leg to fiddle with my fingers as I stared at the ground. “I’m sorry about that, my daughter is still learning how to act during these events.”

           “It’s alright, I don’t have much experience coming to events like this as I’m simply just a merchant.” The man my father was speaking to said, I looked up meeting his gaze. His yellowish green eyes soften when I made contact, and a soft smile graced his dark copper skin. He had long black hair that he had braided to the side and his clothes though not the fanciest still looked respectful.  I felt another set of eyes on me and looked away from the man to see a boy standing next to him. He didn’t look much older than me, he looked at me with a tad shocked expression at my sudden appearance. I was equally shocked as I was not expecting to see someone my age here. I could tell the boy was also an elf based on his long pointed ears, he had pale skin that was slightly tanned in color with freckles that speckled his face and down his neck. His eye were the same color as the man standing next to him with thick circular glasses that framed his face, he had copper colored hair that was pulled back into a small ponytail and his clothes were of the same quality as the man’s not too fancy but fancy enough that no one would complain. “You must be Lady Sonia; your father has talked very much about you. My name is Varo Foxfire.” He reached down and put a hand on top of the boy’s head “this is my son Oleander Foxfire, but we just call him Ollie. I brought him along hoping that the two of you could be friends as you are both close in age, I hope that’s alright” he said now addressing my father who pressed his lips into a firm line as if he wasn’t truly fond of the idea, but before my father could say no, I quickly grabbed the boys hand who seem to jolt at my touch not expecting me to grab him.

           “We have a huge library want to see?” I asked excitedly, the boy glanced between his father and mine unsure of what to do. I looked up at my father trying to plead with my eyes to let us go and my father sighed clearly frustrated with me as he knew I was using this as an excuse to escape this party. I heard the clacking of heels and turned to see my mother.

           “Let them go darling, you know Sonia doesn’t have many chances to make friends her age.” My mother spoke, my father sighed again.

           “Alright. You two go play but behave yourself.” He said looking directly at me with firm eyes and I nodded tightening my grip on the boy’s hand dragging him out of the room while my parents continued to talk to Varo. The boy was silent as I dragged him through the house passing some of the guests who just gave us smiles and a few whispered about how cute we were. Finally, we made our way down a long hallway with many windows on the left side of us while on the right were rows of fancy paintings and few portraits of myself and my family. At the end of the hallway was a big set of dark wooden doors with elvish accents carved into it. I pushed open the door revealing a huge room with walls of books that were at least two stories tall and a huge stain glass window that touched the bottom of the floor reaching all the way to the ceiling, the sun was hitting it just right as lights of blue, red and green danced across the dark wooden floors. I heard a woe come from the boy next to me and I spun around to look at him.

           “Your father said your name is Oleander is that like the flower? How old are you? Where are you from? What’s your family like? Do you have a favorite color? I have a favorite color its-“He let go of my hand pressing it against my mouth to stop me from talking.

           “You talk too much.” Was all he said as he removed his hand from my mouth, I blinked at him a bit taken back by the blunt statement. “Also, it’s just Ollie, I don’t like it when people call me Oleander.” He said walking further into the room to look at the books on the wall nearby.  

           “Why? it’s a pretty name.” I said, he turned to look at me the light hitting the side of his face making the colors appear on the side of his cheek and his eyes sparkled a bit.

           “Everyone always makes fun of me for it because I’m named after a flower. It’s not scary.” He said.

           “But Oleanders are poisonous? Just because something looks harmless doesn’t mean it’s not dangerous. I think your name is cool and plenty scary.” He looked at me in disbelief of what I had just said before he covered his mouth turning away from me, I was about to ask what was wrong when I saw his shoulders shaking along with a few laughs that escaped his mouth. I puffed up my cheeks “hey are you laughing at me?!” I shouted and he turned back towards me.

           “Yeah” he said honestly “but I’m not making fun of you, it’s just do, you always say whatever comes to mind?” he asked

           “Maybe? Is that weird?” I asked a bit sheepishly now feeling a bit self-conscious. He shook his head.

           “I don’t think so.” I felt myself smile at his words as he turned his attention back to the bookcase “do all these books belong to you?” he asked, I shook my head.

           “No, I have a bookshelf in my room with my own books, these are ones my parents have collected. I still like to come in here and read them though, they are filled with information about different things around Exandria. One day I’m going to travel and see all the places in these books.” I said happily as I picked out a book specifically on a town called Whitestone. “I really want to go here, it says that the Lady of Whitestone is originally from Syngorn and shes a member of Vox Machina.” I said flipping to a page showing Lady Vex’ahila De Rolo holding the book up to show Ollie.

           “I have been there.” He said, my jaw practically hit the floor as I shut the book clutching it to my chest.

           “Really!?” I shouted, he nodded. “Did you get to meet the De Rolos’!?” I asked excitingly as I closed the distance between us our faces now really close. I saw his face flush red before he put distance between us and he shook his head.

           “No, I never saw them, I was only there for about a week. My father works for a man named Mr. Gilmore and we travel from towns all over Tal’Dorei to pick up odd magical items then my father sells them to Mr. Gilmore to put in his store, but now my father wants to open up his own store here in Syngorn. I don’t really know the details, but apparently Mr. Gilmore has been wanting to open up a shop here for a while and is using my father’s connections in Syngorn to do it.” he said crossing the room to sit on the couch that was next to the window and I followed him sitting down right next to him.

           “So, that’s why your father is talking to my father? So he can open this store?” I asked and Ollie nodded.

           “Yeah, Mr. Gilmore said that if my father can get the funding and secure a building to open a shop that my father can run the store here in Syngorn. Which means that we will move here, I’m not really excited about that.” He said as he swung his legs back and forth as they didn’t quite reach the floor from where he was sitting on the couch.  

           “Why?” I asked.

           “Because I like traveling and meeting new people, I want to be a merchant when I grow up and I want to travel all over Exandria.” I smiled at his words as we both seemed to share the same dream.

           “Can I go with you?” I asked.

           “Do you know how to sell things?” He asked, I shook my head.

           “No, oh but I’m going to learn how to tell fortunes!” I said excitingly getting off the couch to walk over to one of the bookshelves closest to the window pulling out a couple books to reveal a broken piece of wood which I pulled out to reveal my secret stash. Ollie came over to see what I was doing.

           “what’s all this stuff?” he asked.

           “My collection of important things.” I said reaching in pulling out various objects such as a small hand mirror, some crystal carvings I had gotten from a Fey from the Feygrove and finally pulling out the black wooden box. I stuffed the other stuff back into the spot before placing the wood back and covering it with the book I had pulled out. “Do you know who the Change-bringer is?” I asked, Ollie nodded.

           “Yeah she’s the goddess of fate, many merchants follow her thinking she will bring them luck, but my father doesn’t believe in things like luck. He always says you have to work hard to get what you want and you can’t rely only on luck.” He said, as I took out the deck of cards sitting on the floor trying and failing to shuffle them as they started to spill over the floor. Ollie sat down next to me and helped me gather them back up, he also picked up a card examining it.

           “Well, my father’s assistant told me that you can tell fortunes from the cards with the help of the Change-bringer.” I said, Ollie looked at me confused.

           “But these are just cards with fancy pictures on them, how do they tell fortunes?” he asked. I shrugged my shoulders.

           “I’m not sure, but he used them to tell my fortune today and he said the Change-bringer told him that I would make a faithful connection soon.” I said smiling “then I met you, so it has to be true right?”

           “Are you saying I’m your faithful connection? Isn’t that a tad silly?” he said handing me the card he was holding. “We only met because our fathers know each other.” He said.

           “But isn’t that fate then?” I asked.

           “No.” he said flatly “We probably would have met regardless of the fortune.” I puffed up my cheeks in a pout.

           “Here then I’ll prove it to you, I’ll find out if your father is going to get that store or not.” I closed my eyes trying to focus my mind on the woman I saw earlier today on the coin Zaatar had shown me and I felt that electric energy spread through my skin again then I opened my eyes flipping a card onto the floor in a dramatic fashion. “The cards say he will.” Ollie looked at me with an unimpressed look on his face.

           “You have no idea, do you?” he asked.

           “I have no idea.” I said giggling. “But you don’t know maybe it will come true.”

           “you’re ridiculous.” He said joining in with my laughter. There was a light knock at the door, and I quickly put the cards back in the box before sliding it across the floor under the couch just as my mother opened the door with Varo standing right behind her.

           “It sounds like you two are having fun.” Varo said with a light tone in his voice that sounded like he was pleased with the realization. “However, it’s time we left Ollie.” He said, I felt disappointment wash over me as I watched Ollie get up going over to his father. I quickly got to my feet rushing to my mother and Varo.

           “Can Ollie come back to play?” I asked looking at my mother with hopeful eyes. She glanced over at Varo, who gave her a shrug.

           “If it’s alright with you, I can bring Ollie when I come to do business with Lord Eleros. After-all I will be by often as we finalize the agreements of our deal and I find a place to open the store.” Varo said.

           “Does that mean we are moving here?” Ollie asked, Varo nodded. Ollie turned to look at me with wide eyes and I saw him mouth ‘you were right.’

           “it’s alright with me, it seems Sonia has taken quite a liking to your son. I think her having a friend her age would keep her entertained, she has a lot of energy you know.” My mother said. Varo nodded with a smile on his face.

           “It will be good for Ollie as well, he’s good at making friends, but we have traveled so much that he’s always had to say goodbye to them. So having a friend he can make memories with will be great. Don’t you think so Ollie?” he said looking down at Ollie, however Ollie still had his wide green eyes fixed on me in amazement not paying attention to what anyone was saying. I averted my eyes feeling embarrassed by his stare. Varo just laughed “I think your daughter might have charmed my son into silence.” He said jokingly and my mother laughed.

           “Shall we walk you two out?” my mother asked.

           “That be great.” Varo answered. Ollie and I followed behind them as we walked out of the library into the hallway which was painted with the pink and orange colors of the sunset. Ollie leaned over to me putting his hand over my ear to whisper.

           “Will you teach me how to tell fortunes?” He asked and I nodded.

           “Sure.” I whispered with a smile.

read chapter 3 here

[mcdonaldsnumberone]

PLAYBOY!

sae’s notoriously prideful, always presenting himself as the cold rising genius who’s nothing short of a god-given gift to the world of soccer. though, you’re quickly thrown for a loop when he shows up at your door—with his soccer uniform swapped for a playboy bunny outfit.

gender neutral reader

Ping!

the hotter itoshi: I’m outside your door. Let me in.

Breaking your perfectly well-earned afternoon reverie was nothing more than what you believed to be a seemingly innocent text from your boyfriend Sae. No matter what you did to try and break him out of his my-way-or-the-highway lifestyle, he was firmly dedicated to do whatever he pleased without another care in the world.

Which, unfortunately, for you, meant that he would simply show up at your doorstep whenever he just felt like it.

The last thing you expected, however, was for Sae to be standing outside your front door wearing nothing but a revealing playboy bunny suit.

Sae cocked an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest. “What the fuck are you staring for? Are you going to let me in, or what?”

You looked Sae up and then down, and then up and down once more for good measure. Were you dreaming? There was no way this was real. You pinched yourself on the underside of your arm as you gawked shamelessly at your scantily dressed boyfriend, who was growing more and more annoyed at you with each passing second.

“Forget it—move. It’s fucking cold out there,” Sae grunted. Squeezing past you with the same cold gracefulness that he always exhibited, you frantically shut the door behind him as he practically stomped his way into your house. 

How could you even begin to describe your shock? Dating Sae constantly felt unreal. He was like an icy prince, someone who even through his moments of sweetness always felt slightly out of your reach, a little out of your league. Unlike him, who had been used to the spotlight and the glamor that followed the life of being a professional athlete and a pseudo-celebrity since he was a young child, you were nothing more than the run-of-the-mill nobody. 

Sae unceremoniously flopped onto your living room couch, and with a quick flick of his dexterous ankles, he threw off the red-bottom heels that he had been wearing. You flinched when what you assumed were expensive shoes hit the floor, standing dumbfounded in the doorway like a little kid that had been caught stealing candy.

“Um… Nice to see you too, Sae,” you awkwardly started. “Did you need something? Why’d you show up here?”

He stared at you, clearly unimpressed. Frowning a little, he shifted his sprawled-out position on the couch and folded his knees in, sitting coquettishly on the edge of the sofa as he peered up at you through his lashes. “Is that really all you have to say to me?”

You winced, unable to shake the slightly-fearful-slightly-confused smile off of your face. “I-I mean, is there a reason why you came to my house unannounced? And dressed like that no less…”

He sniffed proudly to himself, turning his gaze away slightly. Your eyes never left him, unsure what to make of the boy sitting in front of you. There was no denying that he was beautiful: his crimson streaked hair was the same color as the vibrant sunrise, his long lashes always gave him an ethereal vibe to him that reminded you of fantasy elves, and the way he could get so ridiculously prideful over nothing drove you insane in every imaginable way possible. 

The outfit itself was doing wonders to your imagination too. You were too used to seeing Sae in his regular jersey and athletic wear—this was probably the most skin you’d ever seen from him. The tight-fitting black bodysuit sat comfortably on top of his torso and stomach, pinching his waist ever-so-slightly to give his sides an alluring curve. When he squirmed a little, the tops of the outfit rubbed against his chest, inevitably calling attention to his toned chest and perfectly sculpted collarbones. 

And his legs! You never thought to describe Sae’s powerful legs as dainty, but seeing them all wrapped up in pretty fishnet tights with his (abandoned) heels made you want to put him inside a glass box and store him away as a permanent feature at your nearest art museum. He even went through the trouble of finding a headband with bunny ears sprouting from it, and a little matching pom pom sat on the curve of his back right above his butt. He had applied some makeup too, a gorgeous shade of red that complimented his features sitting atop his lips.

At that moment, you understood. You never wrapped your head around why middle aged men devoured Playboy magazines as if it were their last meal, but seeing Sae like this? Something clicked in your brain, and you knew. Oh, you fucking knew. 

Sae pouted slightly. “I wanted to see you. Why, did you not? You don’t look excited to see me. Should I go back home?”

“No!” You practically jumped up in your spot, shaking your hands frantically. “Nononono, that’s not it! I’m excited to see you, I promise! I just- I just need an explanation for this… this whole thing.”

Sae raised an eyebrow as you gestured at the outfit. “It was supposed to be a surprise for you.”

“I can tell that much, Sae,” you replied. Sae held his nose up proudly again, wiggling his hips suggestively as he folded his hands in his lap. You gawked at him once more, watching him in disbelief as he gently patted the empty seat next to him. As prideful as he was, he kept on avoiding direct eye contact with you—always moving his body suggestively, trying to keep the focus on the outfit he was wearing, his cheeks morphing into a pretty shade of pink whenever you pried about his surprise…

No way.

No fucking way.

“Sae, are you trying to seduce me?”

Sae stiffened visibly in his seat and immediately yanked his face away from you. You bit back a laugh, slapping your hand over your mouth to keep yourself from collapsing right there and then. You didn’t think your impulsive hunch would be correct. 

Could you imagine? Sae? Sae Itoshi? Japan’s pride and Real Madrid Youth’s genius midfielder? Seducing you by showing up at your door dressed like a goddamn playboy bunny?

“Don’t laugh at me,” he huffed, snapping out of his foxy act to go right back to his grumpy self. You couldn’t help but grin at him as you finally plopped down next to him. You wrapped your arms around his neck in a quiet apology, pulling the boy in for a hug as you held him to your chest.

“Sorry, Sae,” you whispered. Pressing a series of quick kisses to the side of his face, you peered into his bright eyes. “I didn’t think I’d be right. You look cute! I’d never imagine that anyone would go this far to dress up for lil ol’ me.”

“I would. And now you know.” Despite his curt words, he relaxed against your touches, and eventually relented into letting you cuddle him from the side like a clingy koala. He patted his lap, motioned for you to climb onto his lap, and you obediently swung your legs over to hoist yourself right on top of his muscular thighs.

Straddling him gently, you kept your arms wrapped tightly around him as you rested your head on his shoulder. “I mean, it still feels weird to see you in an outfit like this, but… Thank you for thinking of me, Sae. I want to ask though…”

“Hm?” He leaned his head back, kissing the crown of your head. “What is it?”

“What inspired you to do this anyway? Like… Why this outfit in particular?” You poked at his stomach slightly with your pointer finger, earning you an annoyed grunt from the redhead and a swat at your wrist.

“...It’s that stupid horny demon’s fault.”

You blinked blankly. “Come again?”

“Shidou. It was Shidou’s idea,” Sae admitted. His cheeks flushed red again, and his face nearly turned the same color as his hair. “He was probably joking about it, now that I think back… He asked me if I was gonna do anything special for you, and when I asked if he had any good ideas for a surprise, he said I should dress up in this. He said people like it when their lovers dress up in special costumes like this one, so I thought you’d like it too.”

“And you believed him?” You barely swallowed back another fit of laughter threatening to spill from your chest. Sae scrunched up his face, his cheeks puffing up as he pouted at you again.

“Listen, I knew it was a dumb idea, and I know I look stupid,” he sighed defeatedly. “I’m going to murder that kid the moment I get back from hanging out with you.”

“Hey, hey, I never said you looked stupid,” you quickly tacked on. You slowly trailed your fingers from the top of his outfit, feeling the curve of his chest down to his ribs and stomach before settling suggestively right above the dip of his hips. “Awwwww, poor Sae baby… Did you want me to praise you over how pretty you look?”

“Gross. What are you, some pervert? I already have Shidou to kill; don’t make me get mad at you too.” He turned his face away from you again, turning his mouth up in clear disgust. Still, when you moved to cup his cheeks, fawning over him with delight dancing in your eyes, Sae didn’t fully push you away, and he relented into letting you coo over him.

“That’s right,” you sang dreamily. Pinching his face lightly and rubbing your thumbs over the swell of his cheeks, you peppered his nose, mouth, and eyelids with kisses. “I’m a pervert just for you, Sae. You’re the one that goes around acting all haughty and coy for me, and I can’t help but want to see more of you! You’re so cute when you pretend that you hate my attention, but we both know that you can’t live without it.”

Sae hummed, not denying your words. His eyes softened a little, and he mumbled back, “You say such stupid things. You’re a real idiot, did you know that?”

“I don’t think you, of all people, get to talk,” you teased. You leaned down to press a deep kiss to his mouth, letting him snake his arms around your waist and rest his hands on top of your hips. His lips were warm, sticky, most likely thanks to whatever makeup he had applied onto himself right before visiting you. You knew that you’d most likely end up smearing it all across his face if you kept kissing him like this, but when Sae’s hands squeezed your body encouragingly, you pushed yourself closer onto him until you couldn’t hold your breath any longer.

Sae looked up at you breathlessly, his smart-alec thoughts silenced momentarily with how enamored he was with you. You loved seeing him like this. He was softening up to you, bit-by-bit, letting that jaded side of him come down to soak up all of your love, insatiably clinging to you so that you’d give him everything you wanted. You liked knowing that you held his power over him, just as much as he had the same effect over you.

You pressed the pad of your thumb against his lower lips, smearing his already ruined lipstick over his skin. He let his eyes flutter shut beautifully. You wanted to physically drink the sight in front of you: a lovestruck Sae Itoshi with his mouth starting to swell up from how roughly you were kissing him, practically turning into a wreck in your arms as you messed up his makeup and cast him under your spell.

“Can you—,” he swallowed breathlessly, “—Can you kiss me again?”

You rocked your hips slightly, grinning down at him as you lapped up his neediness. How cute. How pathetic. You loved hogging this private side of him all to yourself. “Desperate now, are we?”

“Shut up. I’m not going to ask again.”

“Don’t worry.” Your hands moved to cup the back of his head, pulling him closer to your face. Only a hair’s worth of space separated your lips from his. Letting your voice drop to a sensual whisper, you felt him shudder under your touch. Your eyes never left him. “I won’t make you.”

And when he pulled himself onto you, kissing you fervently, like it was the last kiss you two shared at the airport before he’d sometimes leave for his career, like it was the first kiss you two would share whenever he came back, filled with the same curiosity that drew you towards him over and over again and the same carnal need that kept you by his side. He melted into your touch so easily, matching each of your movements and following the precarious rhythm that you were dancing across his mouth.

He was so easy to love, so easy to please, so easy to win over when you were involved. You kissed him until you two were both breathless, limbs tangled with each other, eyes and mouths blown wide open with how much more you needed from one another. This was the Sae that you knew and adored, the adorably innocent boy who had a greedy heart for you and only you.

It was impossible to not want him—playboy bunny outfit or not.

“Remind me to thank Shidou later,” you whispered, your lips ghosting across his jaw. Sae hummed, his fingertips already having made their home across the curve of your waist, hips, and thighs.

“That’s if he’s alive. Remember, I said I was going to kill him when I went back,” he muttered annoyedly. You smiled again, your heart still racing in your chest as you clung to your boyfriend, chest-to-chest.

“Then I guess I’ll have to do him a favor and force you to stay over. Can’t kill him when you go back if I don’t let you go back,” you offered. Stealing a quick peck to his cheek, Sae gave an exasperated snicker, shaking his head slightly. The once-pristine bunny ears on his head were now tilted a little, misaligned on his ears.

“I think that’s a solution we both can agree on.” His arms wrapped tightly around your midriff, keeping you locked onto the couch with him. “Even you can think of good ideas at times.”

“Oh, Sae,” you laughed. “Don’t put me on Shidou’s level.”

He rested his chin on your shoulder, sticking his tongue as if to playfully toy with the idea. “Please. I’d never do such a thing. At least his ideas clearly seem to be worthwhile sometimes.”

“Hey!”

x

[henqtic]

𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘬 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴

paring: draco malfoy x black!fem!reader

word count: 1.0k

summary: neck kisses, he loved them because you did.

masterlist. // taglist form. // request works. // picture creds.

—————————

draco malfoy loved neck kisses ever since he learned how much y/n l/n did, both of you running through the halls, pulling at the others arm if they weren’t catching up— or at least he was, you nearly getting whiplash from it and your bonnet being mere seconds away from falling off of your head before he could pull you into the designated storage closet, lips eagerly connecting to your plump ones.

you smiled into it, hands running through his already tasseled hair illuminated by the bits of moonlight pouring into the short spaced room by the vents.

your head turned at the sound of someone’s footsteps, scared that you’d get caught out of bed with him for the fourth time this week. it didn’t matter much though, each time being by snape and each time draco using his prefect powers to get you both out of it, a harsh look of judgement being ensured. draco wrote it off as jealousy, that snape probably hadn’t been kissed by a girl in the fifty years he was alive— you weren’t even sure if he was that old.

that being said, your shift of attention didn’t stop him, head simply dipping down to search for your sweet spot.

“don’t you think we should stop soon? you know, i can never find the right shade of concealer at the stores and i’d rather not go out looking like something decided to attack me,” you said through shaky breaths, no longer worried about the sounds you heard minutes ago but about how you were going to cover up the marks that you knew were on you.

he quickly drew back, taking a moment to admire the slightly darker spots littered across your neck, his thumb running over them and the fact that he was the one to made them sinking in.

“i could buy you all the makeup in the world,” he smirked, statement not being far from the truth and eyes trailed down to see yours doing the same, rolling and letting out an all too dramatic sigh before responding—

“if you insist draco.”

“i do.”

he loved them even more when he learned how much you loved to be woken up to them. when everything else was quiet in the manor, house elves freed because you argued that cleaning and doing things around your own home couldn’t be as difficult as he made it out to be— even though it was massive.

and although the winter mornings would be so chilling, there was something else you sought after more than warmth and that was the way his lips would instinctively find their way to your neck like a personal alarm clock. whether it be out of tiredness as he drifted back into sleep almost ten seconds after or when he thought it was time for you to finally wake up after admiring your sleeping form for a few minutes, you loved it.

his arms would be wrapped around you from the back, legs intertwined with each other like they had been every night before you went to sleep and his head would be snuggled into your neck, breathing the familiar scent of shea butter that never seemed to fade away.

“well that’s one way to wake someone up,” you joked in an airy tone, enjoying the little nips of affection as you turned your head slightly to find him in a new position, one arm being folded, offering him support to look down at you.

“it’s a way to wake up my wife,” he corrected, both of you bursting into fits of giggles at the new title.

“can you believe it? we’re actually married. y/n malfoy, has a bit of a ring to it doesn’t it?”

he hummed in agreement, reaching down to grab your left hand, diamond ring being in it’s respected place as his pale hands nearly swallowed yours before pinning it above your head, leaning down to kiss your lips once more, just as he had been for hours before, no complaint coming from you.  

draco found that the neck kisses he’d give you was his favorite thing to do when he realized how much happiness the little gesture brought to you through the years. while he was upstairs in bed, you were watching the two five year olds running across the kitchen, hallways, living room before the cycle would repeat. it was no surprise they were chasing each other, they could never get along ever since they were small babies barely being the size of their fathers forearm.

they were a perfect mixture of you two, both having skin tones mere tones lighter than their mother while still somehow donning the curly tufts of bright blond hair that the malfoys were known for. you’d actually bet on it— that there was no way your kids would ever be born with such a light hair color while he argued that his genes were too strong. and you laughed it off, blaming it on his inflated ego but when you lost with the first, you lost with the second, your twins being the best things that had happened to your life.

“hey don’t hit your brother with that!”

“but mum—”

“don’t but mum be cass, now put the play broom away,” you scolded, the little girl letting out a dramatic groan before throwing the kid quidditch broom she had got for her birthday on the couch and starting her chase again.  

you suddenly felt two limbs wrap around your torso, relaxing into his touch as he gently swayed both of you side to side, his head on your shoulder for support. he’d slept in, wanting to spend his day off with his family but you allowed him an extra two hours while you got the kids ready.

“you could’ve woken me up love,” he mumbled, finding his way to your neck once again.

“i don’t think you could go without a good night’s rest for much longer— you actually got nine hours this time without getting up in the middle of the night.”

“you watch me while i sleep?” he asked, turning your body around to face him, his face slightly scrunched into a disgusted look.

“is there any better sight?”

“mmm, no i don’t think so,” he joked, leaning down to pull you into a long kiss.

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[the-obelisk]

Source - Fae Collection

Loki x Reader

Summary: The one where he helps you to channel your powers with patience, while pissing off Tony Stark in the process 

You felt utterly useless. 

Here you were, standing in front of Earth’s mightiest heroes unable to conjure up your magic like many of your cousins had with ease as children. 

Magic, for you, never came easy.

When you had left your realm that floated right above earth’s visible plane, you fell in love with the mundane and the ordinary. You found beauty in the ease of things and small bursts of excitement because humans only remained on their plane for a short lived while, while you would age among various generations of humankind slowly. 

When Thor had found you seated in a SHIELD interrogation room, eyes closed simply breathing deeply, he looked to Coulson-- a high ranking agent at the time. “How long has she been indoors?” 

The man shrugged his shoulders, “About a month or so. She refused at first and then they stopped asking.” 

“She is of Fae. Her people are connected to nature. She has lost her energy.”

Thor was cleared to bring you to the Avengers compound where you met the rest of the team. They welcomed you but you had seemed to lose the small amount of practice you had accumulated before your time of confinement. 

Your powers were bounded at birth in protection from the dark elves that reigned terror on Alfheim now, it was why you were sent to the invisible plane above Midgard. Outcasts, refugees, and runaways— your history was erased. With that, hope was lost and the understanding of why your power were bounded remained unknown. 

“Wanda, I don’t think I can do it.” 

The redheaded was enlisted by Tony to help mentor you. It had seemed Wanda and you shared one common trait, the ability to tap into others minds. It was something that came of ease for you, however, they already had a mind reader, a witch with the ability of telepathy, they wouldn’t need you. 

“Yes, you can. Feel your energy. Where is the source?” Her voice was calm but you were growing increasingly frustrated. 

Tony, Steve, Natasha, Thor and Loki stood watching as Sam and Bucky waited for Rhodey to return with their snacks. Clearly it had been forever, and they were growing impatient. Thor every so often would give you an encouraging nod. He believed in you. 

In a way they all did, but in that moment you didn’t feel it. Or specifically, hear that. 

“How long is she going to take? I should start my training.” 

“I have dinner with Pepper at 5. She’s gonna kick my ass if I hold her up.”

You closed your eyes again but knew you had no idea what source she was even talking about. All you felt was annoyed, tired of standing, and hungry.

Sensing this, Loki rolled his eyes and glided over to you, passing Wanda who stood off to the side of you. Tony and Steve immediately tensed up at the quick movement, while Rhodey entered at the moment already suspicious of why Steve’s fist was clenched. Thor looked over and spoke in a low voice, “Trust him. I think he may have an idea.” 

Natasha rolled her eyes and offered him a pointed look, “Let’s hope it isn’t anything harmful.” 

Loki smiled softly at you, “You feel no source, do you?” 

You bit your lip and looked down, “No.” You looked at Wanda and shrugged, “I’m sorry. Maybe I just don’t have anything else to offer other than telepathy.” 

The raven-haired man bowed his head catching your eyes, “But you do. I can feel it.” You looked up at him with questioning eyes only to see he had turned around and stared at Tony and Steve, “If you had let me help her originally, you would know that unlike the witch, her power isn’t sourced in her, it is in nature.” 

“Well, how do you expect us to trust you, Reindeer Games? You are here because Thor gave us his word that you meant no harm.”

Loki rolled his eyes. He never cared what Tony Stark’s perceptions were of him. He turned back to look at you and caught your eye, “Do you trust me?” 

You looked into his eyes and nodded. Of course you did.

While you both never spent time together in front of the other members on account that Loki always hid in the library. So when you weren’t buzzing around the building, and walked in to see him sitting in his usual chair— you would smile and begin talking.

Many times for extended hours, and with the exception of a few nights, your conversation often remained light.

But there were nights when vulnerability would seep in. And so, a blossoming interest in one another and a friendship developed in the quietness of late night conversations in your library.

“Very well.” He smirked and looked back at the group, “Being surrounded by this Midgardian garbage of concrete and rubber mats will do nothing for her. We shall take this outside.” 

Tony glared daggers into Loki’s head as the group followed Loki and you to the courtyard. “Midgardian trash? This cost me a fortune. What the hell is he talking ab--” 

You pushed his thoughts out as he projected them loudly. You giggled softly, Loki had looked down at you while holding the door. “You heard it too. Glad you find his anger equally as comical as I do.” 

“I don’t think he will let that one go.” 

“Good, I hope not.”

Loki smirked at you as you walked on the grass. He stopped soon after, and you followed. The rest of the group stopped at a distance. Wanda joined the spot next to Natasha and Thor, they all watched intently. 

You looked at all of them until you heard Loki call your name softly. “Y/N, focus on me.” You met his eyes and inhaled deeply before nodding. “Sorry, I can’t focus with all of their eyes on me.” 

He blew out a short breath in acknowledgement.  “The redhead witch keeps trying to enter my barriers. Quiet annoying, I will say.”  You smiled as you peeped a quick look at Wanda who seemed extremely focused on the man standing in front of you. 

You heard him speak again, “May I?” Hands held out, he waited for your answer. You looked down and slid your gloves off. Your eyes drew back up to his and you slid your hands into his, feeling his cool hand wrap around your warm ones. 

Normally, you hated touching but once you held his hands it felt as though the world slipped away. All you felt was energy, all that surrounded you. You basked in its soft hum.

He continued, “Now, I want you close your eyes and take a deep breath in with me, little one, and clear your mind.” 

You closed you eyes in response, and smiled sweetly at the pet name subconsciously. To which Loki caught and smiled in return, knowing you couldn’t see. 

“You are one with the world around you. Feel the warmth of the sun on this brisk day. You are at peace— the very center of the world around you. Everything here has energy. Nature holds memory of the past and present. You are here, darling. You are safe.” His voice was soft and smooth.

It would be a lie if you didn’t feel yourself melting into his words. They were slick and entrancing. “What do you hear, Y/N?” He asked in his soft lulls.

“The trees. The wind is blowing...” You spoke to him in a quiet voice. 

Loki nodded, “Tell me, dove. How does the wind on your skin make you feel?” 

“It’s soft and slightly warm after the initial cold.” You stated once again causing him to observe you curiously. He turned your hands to face each other slowly in hopes he wouldn’t sever the connection you found. 

His hand cupped against the back of yours as if you were holding an invisible ball. “Gods, she is intoxicating.” Immediately you were pulled out of his thoughts at the sound of his voice, “You aren’t supposed to be intruding in my mind, little one.” 

You smiled tightly embarrassed of getting caught, you heard him chuckle. “Do you feel all the tethers connecting through you? They flow in and out of you. Concentrate them between our hands. 

“I don’t know how.”

“Just feel and trust. Visualize it.”

Slowly you felt warmth gathering closer and closer to your hands. It was forming and growing, you projected a thought to him fearing you would break concentration if you spoke. “It feels like the sun.”

He smiled, “Open your eyes slowly and take a look.”

You opened your eyes to his eyes staring at you. He smiled at you endearingly.

Holding his gaze for a bit, you then followed his eyes down to the ball of light in between both of your hands. Inside it was white with several revolving colors that interchanged. Hues of purples, red, green, and blue shone with gold shimmering around the outside. 

“We did that?” She looked at him with surprise. 

“You did.” He spoke softly. “You are harnessing the world around you. Its energy.”

A smile grew on your lips out of excitement. He moved around you stopping behind you shoulder. You felt his hands slide down your arm, resting them on your elbow and back. “Now throw it.”

You gave a little push it forward and was greeted with a cloud of smoke and Tony yelling. “Not the tree! Come on.” He threw up his hands as Sam, Bucky, and Rhodey laughed throwing popcorn at one another. 

“That was awesome.” You looked at Loki in pure amusement. You couldn’t explain the feeling that coursed through your body. 

He smiled at you and nodded, “I told you that you held power. Come, I have a few books to show you.” 

You nodded eagerly and followed him as Tony yelled at Thor. The blonde smirked at his brother knowing he found joy in pissing Tony off even more. However, he was even more amused at the the scene they had all watched. He noted Loki’s softness, one that the team didn’t get to see. It was shocking to them, but to Thor, it was an emotion he know Loki rarely let others know of. 

It was the quality of a small effort towards redemption. 

“Thank you, Loki. Really.” You said walking alongside him.

The raven-haired man smiled, “No need to thank me, little one. Now, let us go before he combusts out of anger.” 

“You got it, Trickster.” You said acknowledging that he full well enjoyed getting to Tony once more. 

[fanfics4all]

Arranged Marriage

Request: Yes / No 

Requests are closed <3 Have a nice day/night

Draco Malfoy x Fem!Parkinson!Reader 

Word count: 2320

Warnings: Nothing I think?

Y/N: Your Name 

A/N: Possibly making this into a short series.  Bingo card made by @slyttherins

PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK! 

If you want to be on the tag list for anything (My series fics, specific character fics, or just all of them) All you have to do is send me an ask and I will add you! 

Masterlist 

(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

I had a free period and like most I spent it in the Great Hall reading a book. My slightly older sister was sitting with her friends at the other end of the table. They all hated me since I was the complete opposite of Pansy. She was mean, loud, had to be the center of attention, dramatic, and wasn’t incredibly bright. Despite all that I still loved her, even if I was one of her victims. The two of us only shared one thing, our crush on Draco Malfoy. Although she never knew about that and I would never tell her. 

I was enjoying my book when a letter landed in front of me. I closed my book and glanced at it confused. My family’s owl sat on the table in front of me. I picked up the letter with my family’s crest stamped in emerald green wax and opened it. 

‘Y/N,

Your Mother and I decided to arrange a marriage for you. We are concerned that if you make a decision like this on your own, you will make the wrong decision. It is no secret that we are disappointed in your association choices. Because of that, you are going to marry Draco Malfoy. Next time you return home, you will be engaged. Once you both graduate you will be married and produce heirs for both our households. This is to ensure the blood-line. 

~Philip’

I stared at the letter with wide eyes. I glanced over at Draco, who was reading a letter of his own. I turned my attention back to my book and decided to ignore the letter until I returned home. 

“What’s in the letter Drakie?” Pansy asked and I rolled my eyes at her horrid nickname for him. 

“Nothing, just Father informing me of a dinner party we’ll be having next time I return home.” He answered her. I was surprised he didn’t tell her, or maybe his family didn’t tell him his fate yet… 

Later that night, after all classes and dinner had been finished, I was sitting in the corner of the common room working on homework. It was really just me in here, besides a few first years. However, when the door opened and Draco walked in everyone’s eyes were on him. 

“Everyone out.” He said and all the first years scurried off to who knows where. I simply stayed in my place, ignoring his command. 

“Parkinson.” He said and I glanced up to find him standing in front of me now. 

“Can I help you?” I asked. 

“I’m sure you got a letter telling you about our situations as well.” He said and I simply nodded. So he did just choose not to tell my sister. Interesting… 

“You better not tell anyone about this.” He said and I looked back down at my homework. 

“I wasn’t planning on it.” I said, simply. 

“Because if you do- wait, what?” He asked, cutting himself off. 

“I said I wasn’t planning on it. My Father didn’t tell my sister for a reason and honestly I’d rather her not know until it’s too late. I don’t need her bullying to get any worse, or yours for that matter. So, we can just pretend it isn’t happening until the dinner, then we’ll figure it out from there. I wouldn’t want to stain your reputation you’ve worked so hard to preserve.” I said, not even sparing him a glance. I wanted him to know I didn’t care, even though I was a bit excited to be marrying him. 

“Um, right. Well then, till the dinner.” He said and left me to be. 

The months leading up to the dinner felt like nothing had changed. I suppose nothing has changed yet. Draco was still a bully along with his friends and I was their helpless victim. My sister still clung to Draco any chance and he was still annoyed by her actions. A very small part of me wanted to rub it in her face that I was the one to be marrying him, but I wasn’t that type of person. When it was finally time to return home for a short time, I spent the whole train ride thinking about the dinner to come. When everyone stepped off the train, Pansy hugged Draco goodbye and then she made her way over to our parents. 

“Girls! How has school been?” Mother asked with a smile. 

“It’s been alright, that Potter boy is incredibly annoying. Just because he ‘survived’ the Dark Lord’s attack he’s special? He was a bloody baby.” Pansy said, rolling her eyes. 

“He doesn’t want the fame.” I said. 

“You would know, traitor!” She hissed. 

“Enough girls!” Father said and I bowed my head. 

“Sorry Father…” I said, even though I never truly did anything wrong I always felt like I needed to apologize constantly. 

“There will be no fighting while you are home, is that understood?” He said. 

“Yes Father.” We said in unison. 

“Good, now let’s go home.” He said. 

A few days had gone by and my parents hadn’t mentioned anything about the dinner to me. I was sitting in the den reading, while my Mother was having a cup of tea and my Father was reading the paper. 

“Pansy, come down here please!” Father called her. 

“Yes?” She asked, walking into the room. 

“Aunt Paisley wanted to take you shopping tonight, would you like to go?” He asked. 

“Is Y/N coming?” She asked. 

“No, just you.” He answered and her eyes lit up. 

“Really? Just me and Auntie?” She asked and Father nodded. 

“Oh yes! I’d love to go!” She said and rushed upstairs to get ready. 

“Hurry dear! Your Aunt is already waiting for you!” Mother called. 

“I’ll be finished in a moment!” She called back. Sure enough after ten minus she was back downstairs, dressed to go out. It was the fastest I’ve ever seen her get ready.

“Right, take some floo powder and go to her house, she’s waiting for you there.” Father said and she nodded. 

“She said you can stay the night if you’d like.” Mother mentioned. 

“Oh yes please!” Pansy said, happily. She gave me a nasty smirk before taking some powder and saying our Aunt’s house. Off she went to have a nice night out with our Aunt. 

“Now, you go upstairs and get ready, your Mother picked out a dress for you to wear tonight.” Father said and I looked at my parents confused. 

“Ready for what?” I asked. 

“The dinner, we’re going to Malfoy Manor.” He answered and I was even more confused. 

“Why isn’t Pansy coming?” I asked. 

“Because, as much as we love your sister, we don’t want to hear her complain about your engagement for the rest of our lives. So she’ll find out when we’ve already planned the wedding and you two are getting married.” He answered and I couldn’t hold back my smile. 

“You’re lucky Draco didn’t tell her when he got his letter.” I said, placing my book on the table and went off to my room. Laying on my bed was a simple emerald green dress, with a slit down the side, and silver accents on both wrists. There were a pair of simple silver heels to match. I smiled at the outfit, it was really quite beautiful. Once I was dressed I did a simple spell to get my hair and makeup perfect. 

I walked downstairs and my parents were both ready to go. My Mother offered me her hand which I accepted and the three of us apparated to Malfoy Manor. The sky was already starting to darken, but the sun still peaked out, giving the sky a beautiful painting of pinks, purples, oranges, and yellows. We walked up the steps and my Father knocked on the door. A house-elf answered and I smiled, earring a glare from my Father. I bowed my head, he never liked how well I treated them. He always said those creatures deserve no kindness. I thought differently, house-elves deserved plenty of kindness, after all they’re very helpful. I always snuck into the kitchen at night and had lovely conversations with our house-elves, being careful not to catch the attention of anyone else in the house. 

“Mr. Parkinson, Mrs. Parkinson, Miss. Parkinson, please come in.” The little house-elf said. 

“Wolkey will inform Master of your arrival.” He said and left to get the Malfoys. 

“Ah, Philip, Oliva, Y/N, so glad you could make it.” Lucius said while shaking my Father’s hand. 

“What a lovely dress Y/N, don’t you think so Draco.” Narcissa said, gently nudging her son. 

“Yes, it’s a very lovely color on you.” He smiled, but it didn’t quite meet his eyes. 

“Thank you.” I smiled. 

The dinner was normal, our parents discussing business relations while Draco and I simply ate. It wasn’t until dinner was cleared and dessert was being served that the atmosphere changed. 

“I believe Draco has something to ask you Y/N.” Narcissa said with a smile. Draco cleared his throat and walked over to me on the other side of the table. He gently grabbed my hand and kept his other in his pocket. 

“Y/N, we’ve known each other since we were children and you’ve always been such a beauty. We’ve been friends for a while, but now I feel we should be more. Will you do me the honor of being my wife?” He asked. I could tell they weren’t his words, but they still made my heart flutter. Everyone looked at me expectantly, like I could say anything other than yes. 

“Yes Draco, I’d love to.” I smiled. Draco smiled and took out a sliver snake ring with a small emerald, the Malfoy family crest engraved on the bottom. 

Draco took my hand and placed the ring on my finger. 

“Draco, why don’t you take Y/N into the garden, I’m sure she’ll love it.” Narcissa said and Draco nodded. He gently helped me up and led me outside to the porch, looking over the garden. 

“That was all my Mother.” He stated as soon as we were away from our families. 

“I know.” I smiled at him and he looked at me confused. 

“How can you smile in a moment like this? You’re being forced into a marriage.” He asked confused. 

“I can tell you Mother picked out all the flowers.” I said, changing the subject. Before he could say anything I walked down the steps into the garden. 

“Hey! Wait!” He said and followed after me. 

“Will you answer my question?” He said, slightly annoyed. 

“Have you ever looked around here and really took notice of the beauty in your backyard?” I asked. 

“I’ve looked around here plenty if that’s what you’re asking.” He said, rolling his eyes. 

“Oh look, you have some wilting flowers.” I frowned. I kneeled down and cupped the flowers gently. 

“What are you doing? You’ll get your dress dirty.” He said, but I ignored him. 

“Herbivicus” I whispered and the flowers grew to their original form. I stood up and smiled, glancing at Draco who had a shocked expression on his face. 

“Where did you learn that?” He asked. 

“A book I read.” I answered. 

“You learned that just from a book?” He asked. 

“Yes, I have an eidetic memory. I remember everything I’ve read or what people have said to me.” I answered and looked down at my dress. There were some dirt spots, my parents would be upset with me. 

“Scourgify” I said and my dress was good as new. 

“The reason I can smile about our situation is because I’ll be making my parents proud for the first time since they’ve heard I’m friends with people they call traitors. I love my family, even my sister, shocking as that is, family is important to me and I’d like to make them proud of me. So if marrying you is what it takes then so be it. Perhaps we could even fall in love with each other, or even just be friends.” I finally answered his question. 

“You really are quite strange, aren’t you?” He said after a moment. 

“I just think on the positive side.” I smiled at him. 

“We can’t tell my sister until the very last minute, by the way, my parents don’t want to hear her complaints.” I mentioned and he gave a light chuckle. 

“I suppose even they don’t enjoy her company.” He said and I shook my head. 

“They love her, but yes, sometimes they don’t enjoy her complaining.” I answered. 

“How are you going to explain the ring?” He asked. 

“A surprise gift from my Aunt, that’s where Pansy is right now.” I answered and he gave another light chuckle. 

“Smart.” He said. 

“What if she tries to take it from you?” He asked. 

“You know my sister well.” I giggled. 

“My Father is going to spell the ring so only you or I can take it off. And if I need to take it off for whatever reason I have a spelled jewelry box, she’ll need my voice, DNA, and wand to get it open.” I answered with a smirk. 

“Very smart.” He said, slightly shocked. 

“I like to take caution when it comes to my sister. It’s a very beautiful ring, thank you.” I smiled.

“It’s tradition that the Malfoy proposing makes a special ring with the crest engraved on it. My Mother had it made, but asked for my opinion before it was finished.” He said and I smiled at him. 

“Still think this is a bad thing?” I asked. 

“Suppose there could be worse people to be forced to marry…” He said. 

“I’ll take that as a complement.” I said and stared down at the ring that fit perfectly on my finger. This was really happening. I was going to marry Draco Malfoy.

Tag list: @les-bio-lie​ @tashy-bear​ @ashwarren32​ @hollie-blogs-blog1​ @schisbro87​ @lover-of-books-and-teas​ @nerdygaloresposts​ @teenwolfbitches2​ @genius2050​ @drw0301bieber​ @lady-of-lies​ @ravenmoore14​ @ravenempress101​ @cillianchamp​ @rowanthomasknapp​ @rachelxwayne​ @in-slytherin-we-trust​ @accio-rogers​ @sambucky8​ @bruisedfists-and-splitlips @answer-the-sirens​ @andreasworlsboring101​ @vanessa-kom-skaikru​ @impulse-anchor​ @dracoswhvre​

[hxlyhead-harpies]

Foiled Plans and Held Hands (C.D.)

Hi guys!! Something new I thought you all might like. It’s my first time writing for Cedric so I hope that I did him justice! Enjoy!

Pairing: Cedric Diggory x Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: none

Summary: Your plans to sneak out of the dorm in the middle of the night are foiled when you run into your handsome prefect.

You laid in your bed, the curtain shut tightly around it. The candles had been snuffed out hours ago and you had laid there quietly, waiting and counting the beats in between your roommate’s breaths. You waited until the rhythm of their breathing was smooth and slow and soft snoring filled the room. This was a ritual you had repeated every Friday night following Christmas break. It had become a habit in your third year, and three years later you were still sneaking out of your dormitory at the height of the moon.

Slowly and surely, you lifted back the curtain. You quietly maneuvered off the mattress, attempting to stop it from squeaking. You slipped off of the bed and softly padded to your desk, stopping along the way to put on a worn pair of sneakers. You grabbed your jumper off the back of your chair. It was a sweater that you had made yourself; it was made of yellow and black wool, your house colors, and was clearly loved. The yarn was frayed at the sleeves, and because your knitting skills were not the most advanced, there were several built-in holes littered across the jumper. You quickly slipped it on and grabbed you satchel which sat at your feet. You rifled through it to make sure the goods were in there. After everything was accounted for, you slowly crept towards the door. You cast a quick silencing spell on the door, knowing that creaky hinges would give you away in an instant, and slipped out.

You quickly made your way down the stairs to the common room, knowing that no one would be up this late. As you rounded the last step you picked up your pace, speeding up to a brisk walk, when you abruptly bumped into something-or rather-someone.

You lifted your head to meet the eyes of a prefect: Cedric Diggory. You gulped, knowing that this situation would not end well for you.

“And where might you be going this long after curfew?” he asked you with one eyebrow raised.

“I wasn’t going anywhere,” you replied quickly, eyes scanning the room for an excuse. Cedric crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at you.

“So you weren’t planning on leaving the dorm?” he asked skeptically. You nodded quickly.

“I had a bad dream!” you exclaimed. “I came down here too, uh-” you dashed quickly to the nearest sofa- “sit!” you frantically explained. Cedric only shook his head.

“You came down here to ‘sit’ fully clothed with a bag?” he asked, clearly not buying your story. You shrunk under his gaze. Cedric Diggory had always intimidated you. For starters, he was a prefect. He could get you in trouble if he ever found out what it was that you were doing. Not to mention he was popular, always surrounded by people and was adored by all. He was generally the type of person that you would try your best to avoid. And the fact that he was drop-dead gorgeous only added to his intimidating nature. His mere presence made your heart beat faster in your chest and your palms sweaty.

“Yes. I came down here fully clothed. Changing relaxes me,” you responded, internally cringing at your statement. He chuckled at what you had said, only furthering your embarrassment.

“I’m sorry to say it, but I don’t believe you,” he said, placing his hands on his hips and smirking down at you. You frowned.

“Well, no offense, but it doesn’t exactly matter what you think. I didn’t technically do anything wrong,” you challenged, folding your arms tightly across your chest. Cedric scoffed at you.

“What are you talking about? I caught you trying to leave the common room,” he exclaimed.

“No, you didn’t catch me doing anything. I’m simply sitting in my own common room. That’s not against the rules,” you retorted. He carded his hand through his hair, clearly becoming frustrated.

“Well yes, but you were about to leave-”

“But I never crossed the threshold,” you explained, cutting him off. He groaned.

“But I know that you were planning to leave,” he said, glaring at you slightly.

“Well good luck trying to prove it,” you responded defiantly. Cedric rolled his eyes.

“Well just go back to bed then. There’s no reason for you to be up here,” he said, attempting to shoo you up the stairs.

“I think I’m gonna stay down here. The nightmares and all,” you said, sending his a tightlipped smile. Cedric groaned.

“I know that as soon as I go up to bed, you’re just going to leave. And it’s way past curfew and I can’t let you do that,” he said, giving you a hardened look. You mentally screamed, frustrated that he had seen through your plan so quickly. You look down at your palms, unsure of what to say now. You had been planning this night for a long time and the preparation had taken weeks, you couldn’t back down now.

“You know what Cedric?” you asked, standing up from your spot on the sofa.

“What?” he inquired, a hint of curiosity in his eyes.

“What gives you the grounds to scold me when we’re doing the exact same thing as me? What are you doing in the common room so late?” you demanded, eyebrows raised. Cedric’s face went slack. His mouth kept opening and closing as if he was attempting to form an excuse, but no words came out.

“That’s what I thought,” you said with a smirk. You turned around and sat back down on the couch, waiting for Cedric to leave. To your surprise, he sat down beside you.

“Like you said,” he mumbled quietly, “nightmares.” You turned to look at him, regret washing over you. You felt stupid and cruel.

“I- I’m sorry I didn’t realize,” you apologized. He sent you a quick smile.

“It’s alright,” he responded. The two of you sat in silence for a moment, unsure of what to say.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you asked after a beat. Cedric shrugged.

“It’s fine. Don’t want to dump all of it onto you. It’s not exactly like we know each other well,” he said. You hummed in agreement.

“Even still, I wouldn’t mind,” you said. Cedric let out a deep sigh.

“It’s just- ever since the tournament I haven’t been sleeping well. That’s all,” he explained. You frowned as the realization hit you. It was no surprise that Cedric would have nightmares about what happened in the maze a year earlier. You shuddered at the thought of what he had gone through. You absentmindedly covered his hand with yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“I understand,” you said. “Well I mean I will never understand what you went through, but I understand what you mean.” Cedric lifted his head to smile at you.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, squeezing your hand back.

“No problem,” you responded, staring into his eyes. He was beautiful, breathtakingly so in the dim light of the common room. The two of you held eye contact for a while, you slowly becoming aware of your proximity.

“So?” he asked.

“Mhm?” you responded, still maintaining eye contact.

“Where were you sneaking off to tonight?” he asked cheekily. You groaned, removing your hand from his to shove his shoulder.

“Oh sod off Diggory,” you said with a laugh. He laughed too for a moment.

“But seriously, I’m curious. I promise to pretend that I’m not a prefect for a moment,” he begged. You thought for a moment, but in the end, you were unable to resist his puppy dog eyes.

“Fine,” you said with a huff. You grabbed your satchel from the floor and spilled its contents onto the sofa. Approximately ten tiny jumpers tumbled out of your bag. Cedric looked at them, puzzled. He picked one up to examine it before turning to you.

“I don’t understand,” he said, examining the small purple sweater in front of him.

“I make them for the house elves every year,” you explained abashedly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Cedric’s face lit up as he realized what you said.

“That’s so kind of you,” Cedric says quietly. You flushed.

“Well, I always feel bad that they have no possessions of their own, and I have a lot of time on my hands during the winter break,” you said, shrugging your shoulders.

“Don’t sell yourself short! It’s incredible that you do this,” he said with a wide smile. Your blush only deepened as you thanked him. Abruptly, Cedric handed back the jumper in his hands and stood up.

“You know. I’m feeling tired. I might head up to bed,” he said formally. You frowned, confused at his abruptness. You had been having a good time and you had hoped that he felt the same.

“Oh,” you responded quietly.

“So now I’m turning, and facing away from the portrait hole,” Cedric said slowly, sending you a quick wink. Your mouth formed an o as you realized what he was doing.

“Oh, that’s too bad Cedric. I guess I’ll see you in the morning,” you said with a smirk. Cedric gave you a wide smile.

“Goodnight (Y/n),” he said before turning on his heel and marching up the stairs. You quickly grabbed your things and headed out of the portrait hole and towards the kitchen, smiling like an idiot the entire way.

[fandoms-are-my-friends-1321]

Magic in a Time of Need

Okay so I received this request from @empress-writes, and I’m honestly very excited to write it! I haven’t written for Thranduil or anything related to The Hobbit, so this should be an interesting experience. Flashbacks are in italics. As always gif and characters are not mine. Hope you enjoy it!

Description: Y/N is the most skilled mage in Middle Earth, and has chosen to help the Dwarves reclaim their homeland. When Y/N and the dwarves are caught by the king of Mirkwood, the tension of Y/N and Thranduil’s past arises

Warnings: a little bit of sexual tension, references to past smut, mentions of blood. If I miss any please tell me!

Y/N, one of the most well known mages in all of Middle Earth, was stuck in a prison cell with their comrades. Of course, they didn’t mind that they were in this predicament. It was merely a small wrinkle in their journey with the Dwarves of Erebor, and Y/N wouldn’t have changed anything.

Y/N was recruited by Gandalf the Grey at the very beginning of the quest to reclaim the mountain, and Y/N accepted in an instant. They knew Thorin from when he was younger, and got along with all of the other Dwarfs, who saw Y/N as a sister. Y/N understood what it was like to lose a home, and they wouldn’t let the company fall to that same fate.

Of course, now there quest had come to a halt. All of the Dwarves sat in their cells. Some were angry, while others had simply given up. “Come on, we can’t let this small inconvenience dampen our spirits,” Y/N stated as they leaned against the cool metallic bars. “I know the strength that is within all of you. We will get through this.”

“I hope you are right, dear mage, but with Bilbo missing and Thorin unwilling to cooperate, our luck seems to have run out,” Balin replied. Y/N could understand Thorin’s anger towards the Elven king. He had abandoned the Dwarves like a coward when they needed him, and that was one of the many reason why Y/N decided to join the dwarves.

Fili kicked the door of his cell and let out a scream of frustration. “Can you not use magic to break these blasted bars? Surely that is possible!”

“No, it’s not possible,” Y/N retorted. “My cell is marked with enchantments that prevent me from using magic. Funny, they take the time to make something like this, but they don’t take time to save the innocent.”

The Dwarves all voiced their agreement. After a few minutes, an elf appeared in front of Y/N’s cell. They recognized him from the first time they had came to Mirkwood. Y/N smirked at him. “Nirornor, it’s been a long time. I can see that your still working for blondie. How’s that going for you?”

Nirornor’s face remained stoic. “It’s going well. Not that you would know, mage. Thranduil is requesting your presence.”

“Hm, I can see your still stoic as ever my pointy-eared friend. Alright, let’s get this over with.”

Nirornor mumbled under his breath, something about idiotic humans. Y/N knew better though, for they had spent much time with him while they were in Mirkwood last. Deep down Nirornor wasn’t as uptight as he was now, but Y/N figured that he had to keep up appearances.

Nirornor escorted Y/N into the throne room, and they started the climb up the winding stairs leading to the throne. Y/N tried to rub their wrists, but it was much more difficult with the enchanted handcuffs that were placed around them. Gods, did Thranduil not trust them at all? Well, after what they did, he was probably still angry.

Finally, the two reached the top of the stairs. The king of Mirkwood himself was stretched over his throne, his boot-clad feet dangling over the arms of the throne. Thranduil wasn’t looking at either of them as he pretended to be lost in thought. “You may leave us, Nirornor,” Thranduil said with a wave of his hand.

Nirornor bowed to the king and journeyed back down the stairs. The tension in the air was thick, and Y/N began to shift on their feet. Thranduil simply chuckled at them. “How do those cuffs feel, melethel? I had them specially made for your return.”

“Don’t call me that, and if I’m being honest, these cuffs are a pain,” Y/N growled at the blonde Elf.

“Oh come now, don’t be so aggressive. You didn’t complain about my nickname for you the last time we were together. Don’t tell me you have forgotten?”

Thranduil was right, Y/N couldn’t forget about that night, or the first time they had met. It was several years ago, when Y/N was a mere apprentice. Some of the older mages were called to Mirkwood to help the king, and decided that Y/N should come too.

“Don’t you fret, my dear. Everything will be fine, and I think you’ll find Mirkwood to be quite enjoyable.”

Ealdthard, the head mage of Artevor, a school of magic located near the Blue Mountains, turned in his saddle to check on his apprentice. Y/N was looking around at the massive trees and how their leaves danced in the slight wind. “I think you are right, Ealdthard. However, I’ve heard rumors about the king. Is he really as nasty as they say?”

“Well, all my dealings with him have been pleasant. He may not always be fond of other races, but he admires our magical skills.”

Y/N nodded their head. Surely if Ealdthard liked him, they would too. They approached the front gate of Mirkwood, and a tall, brunette elf approached them. “Alatulya, mages of Artevor. The servants will take care of your horses, and I will escort you inside. My name is Nirornor, and I am an aid to the king.”

The two mages followed Nirornor into the throne room, and upon reaching the throne, Y/N let out a quiet gasp. They never expected the Elven king to be so beautiful. Y/N knew that Elves were often picturesque, but they assumed this king would be old and scraggly. Boy were they wrong. His locks reflected in the light of the room, and his skin appeared to be softer than velvet. Thranduil’s ocean colored eyes stared directly into Y/N’s, and Y/N could have swore that they darkened ever so slightly.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Ealdthard. Who is this beautiful person that you have brought with you,” Thranduil asked as he approached the two.

“This is Y/N, my apprentice. I thought it would be good for them to travel to new places and experience new things before they leave my side to travel alone,” Ealdthard responded.

“That’s very wise of you, and I hope that you enjoy your stay here, Y/N. I am Thranduil, the king of Mirkwood.” he leaned down and left a gently kiss on Y/N’s hand, and Y/N blushed at the action.

“Ealdthard and I have some business to attend to, but I do hope to see you at dinner,” Thranduil added as he started to walk away with Ealdthard.

“I will be there, your highness,” Y/N answered with a bow.

“Please, call me Thranduil.”

Y/N later learned the reason why they were summoned to Mirkwood that year. Thranduil wanted help with learning more enchantments to hide his face, which had been touched by dragon fire. At first Y/N had felt pity for him, but his future actions filled them with rage.

“Whatever proposition you have, I want nothing of it,” Y/N snarled.

Thranduil glared back at her. “You haven’t even heard what it is. Stay with me, Y/N. Be my queen and a powerful mage at my side.”

“So, I’m just going to be a tool then?! Never! I am loyal to the dwarves, and they are more courageous than you’ll ever be!”

Thranduil crossed the room in a flash, and his hand harshly grasped Y/N’s chin. He forced Y/N to look into his eyes. Anger was flowing off of the two of them, and a mix of something else was also present. Thranduil’s lips were inches from Y/N’s. “Don’t you ever mention those dwarves around me. They could never give you what I have given you.”

That evening, Thranduil had hosted a huge feast to welcome his guests. After they had filled themselves with a wide array of dishes, a bard began to be lay music in the corner. The peppy tune caused the Elves to rise to their feet, and they all began to dance. Y/N, dressed in a fancy outift, sipped wine from their chalice. Thranduil approached them, and offered a hand to them. “May I have this dance, Y/N?”

Y/N accepted. Thranduil and Y/N spun around the dance floor in graceful movements. Both of them were laughing. Y/N was finally starting to believe that Thranduil wasn’t as harsh as they had originally thought. “You’re an amazing dancer, Y/N,” Thranduil commented as his eyes sparkled with adoration. Thranduil knew that he shouldn’t be falling for someone so quickly, let alone that person being a human, but he couldn’t help it. Y/N made him feel happy, and he hadn’t felt that way in a long time.

That night, Y/N stayed with Thranduil. As the moon travelled across the dark sky, Thranduil and Y/N were caught in the throes of passion, and afterwards their limbs remained tangled with one another until the early morning hours. Y/N woke to an empty bed.

A maid walked in, and Y/N tried to cover themselves with the fitted sheets. “Excuse me, do you know where Thranduil is,” Y/N asked the maid.

“Oh, he had to leave early this morning. A dragon has attacked Erebor, and the dwarves are requesting assistance. However, Thranduil has already made up his mind to not help them. A dragon is dangerous business,” the maid stated.

Y/N’s features flushed crimson from anger. If Thranduil wasn’t going to help those innocent Dwarves, then why did he even leave in the first place! Y/N quickly dressed and gathered their things, and before leaving they told Ealdthard the reason behind their abrupt exit. Y/N could not stand by and help a selfish king.

“If that is what you wish,” Ealdthard whispered, “then I will meet you back at Artevor. Travel safely, dear Y/N.”

And travel they did, all the way back to Artevor. They finished their apprenticeship, and travelled into the world as planned. Never once did did they think of Thranduil, except for the few nights when they woke up in a hot sweat from a dream they had about him and their time together. Y/N became the most powerful mage in Middle Earth. When the moment came that Y/N could help the dwarves, they joined with no hesitation. They would get back at Thranduil for doing what he was to scared to do.

When Thranduil returned and learned that Y/N had left, he grew angrier by the second. Tables were thrown, and Thranduil even pulled a sword against Nirornor. “Where did they go?! Why has Y/N left me,” Thranduil shouted in anguish and rage.

“They have gone back to Artevor. They said that they would not help such a selfish king,” Nirornor said.

“I swear, that if Y/N ever dares to return here, I will make them suffer! I will show them what happens when you cross an Elf!”

Little did Thranduil know that his time for revenge would eventually come, and now here his now enemy was, just an inch away from him.

“I may still love you deep down, Thranduil, but until you change your idiotic ways, I will never stay by your side,” Y/N declared.

Thranduil leaned in and roughly connected his lips with Y/N’s. His anger went straight into the kiss, and while Y/N wished they could return it, they shoved him away as best they could with cuffs on. Thranduil’s eyes flashed with fury, and he slowly backed away from them. “Take them back to the cells. I will wait an eternity if I have to in order to have you by my side, Y/N.”

As Y/N was dragged away from the king, they flung their head back in a roar of laughter. “Sorry, blondie! You’re going to have to wait longer than that!”

Y/N was right of course, for hours later Bilbo had freed them and the other dwarves, and they floated down the river in oak barrels. Their journey was back on track, but Y/N couldn’t shake the lingering feelings they had for Thranduil.

Nirornor approached Thranduil for the second time that day. This time he was wearing armor, and orc blood stained the side of his slim face. “Your highness, Y/N has escaped again.”

Thranduil simply smiled. “I know that they’ve escaped. Something tells me this won’t be the last time I will see that famous mage.”

[bookwyrminspiration]

greetings *curtseies??*

i am here wondering how to erect an e-statue does that exist i don’t know i don’t know

anyways to my actual question, do you think marella did something to her hair on the stellarlune cover or… cause she’s a natural blonde, not ginger? or is that maybe not even marella at all??

well, greetings to you too! *slightly bemused head nod in acknowledgement of the curtsy* (question: what is the curtsy for? what inspired it?)

I don't know how to erect an e-statue either nor what that would entail in the slightest. From my 30 second search of the internet I have found no evidence that something like that exists. my intention when suggesting an e-statue in my partner's honor was more as a commemoration of their brief visit to this side of The Tungles, so perhaps something more suited to the internet would be better. we could draw a shrine instead or something, idk.

but now onto your actual question!! and it definitely seems to be one that a lot of the fandom is asking, so I'll probably have a lot of the same explanations that everyone else has come up with.

based on past art of the characters, Marella's hair seems to be a lot more red than before. In Laura's art, she's as blonde as Sophie and Keefe, no underlying red hues at all. But now she's a lot closer to Dex's color, a strawberry blond. And I have a few possible explanations for that

1. She's done something to alter her appearance. It's been shown throughout the series that elves are more than capable of changing their hair/eye/skin color as they please, so Marella may have taken an elixir that darkened up the color of her hair to a more red hue. She's also shown little to no aversion to that kind of thing as far as I can remember, so maybe it's cosmetic and for fun. Maybe she had to change her appearance to blend in. I'm not personally convinced this is the reason, but it is possible.

2. it's the lighting. Marella's entire figure seems to be shrouded in more shadows than Sophie, so perhaps that's making her hair seem a lot darker than it is. If we compare their skin colors, which were very similar in Laura's art if I'm remembering correctly, Marella seems to have her entire face in shadows, and part of that could be affecting her hair. The most obvious part is that section of hair directly to the right of Sophie's head, and Sophie is really well lit compared to the shadows of Marella, which might be making it seem more dramatic than it is. I don't think this is a convincing argument either, but it may have an effect.

Then there's the reason that I personally find most convincing, and it's simply that it makes her look different than Sophie. It's a subtle change, still noticeable for us who are familiar with her previous art and descriptions, but she's still passable as kind of blond. If you look at the cover as a whole, you can see her instead as a darker blonde, or a blonde with a red undertone. She's definitely not as light blonde as Sophie is, but unless you're paying really close attention (which the whole fandom has been) she can be written off as blonde while still looking distinct from Sophie. That is, if you're looking at her hair as a whole and how it looks when under better light (towards the top of her head) instead of just the shadowed part (which is in her armpit). It's not entirely fair to compare the darkest part to Sophie's lightest, though it is set up so that those parts are closest together which I think is exacerbating the effect.

I think if Marella was given the light blonde we've come to associate her with she's look really similar to Sophie in this cover. The only main difference would be what they were wearing, style of hair (which isn't as noticeable of a difference when it's being whipped about like that), and eye color/shape. Overall, they'd look practically the same and that's not what's wanted!! These are supposed to be distinct characters, and while we can distinguish them in writing by manner of speech, abilities, etc, it's a lot more limited in a single drawing. We know the difference, but new readers won't.

So with 2 blondes on the cover, one had to be altered slightly to give them a distinction. As Sophie is the main character, it's more important for her to stay the same, so Marella ends up with a small, but noticeable change to make their differences more obvious. I mean, we all still recognized her, despite the bemusement.

I do think it is Marella though, as the combination of ice blue eyes, almost blonde hair, lots of little braids, and holding a torch are all Marella things. Though I am curious why she's holding a torch instead of being one.

Excellent question!! I guess we'll have to wait until November 8th to read the book and find out what on earth (or maybe not on earth given elves can travel through space, but I still think it's on earth) is happening in this scene.

TL;DR: I think Marella's hair is different to make her more distinct from Sophie, but she's still passable as blonde when you look at her hair as a whole. The really red and shadowed part is right next to the brightest blonde of Sophie's, so it makes it look more dramatic than it is.

[unknowncountrygirl]

Drunken Confession: Ben

Jae arrived in his typical outlandish behavior, wielding two large bottles of Fire Whiskey.

“Look alive boys, our Thursday night just got a lot more interesting!”

“Where did-” Charlie started but waved his hand, “you know what, never mind, I don't want to know.”

“I got cups in my trunk! Gather round boys, it's going to be a good night! Hope you don't have anywhere to go early in the morning.” He summoned his and Murphy's side tables and put them back to back to make a small table in the middle of the room. He then placed the two, rather large bottles on the tables, and went to dig in his trunk.

“This is?” Orion questioned, picking up one of the bottles.

“Irish brewed Firewhiskey, aged in barrels for years. It's the good stuff.” Jae mentioned, placing a array of cups on the table.

“You and I have different ideas of what good stuff is.” Murphy eyed the amber liquid that Orion was sloshing around.

Charlie got off his bed and walked over, looking at the small shot glasses.

“So... You brought it for us all to try?” He asked innocently.

“I have something actually more interesting in mind.” Jae said slyly. “Unless you are all a bunch of softies.”

“Hardly.” Ben replied deadpanned, picking up the second bottle to crack it open, and began to pour it into the glasses, filling them to the top. “What were you thinking Jae?”

“We've all known one another years now, lets get to know each other a little bit better.”

“This is your way of just trying to get information from us that you can blackmail us with later.” Murphy looked up at Jae, feeling very suspicious of him. Jae said nothing, just smiled slyly and took his shot before pouring himself another.

“Take a drink if you have ever used a unregulated potion, I'll go first.” He took a large gulp of the amber liquid. Ben lifted an eyebrow, but played along and poured himself a drink before taking a drink. Charlie, Orion, and Murphy simply nodded as they were handed their own drinks, not touching the liquid to their lips.

“Take a drink if you've ever... Seen a dragon?” Charlie tried. Jae, Ben, and Charlie took long sips.

“You are going to have to include something that we have done.” Murphy almost pouted with a smile on his lips. “Like if you've been voted most dashing Quidditch Commentator.” It was silly, but an excuse to take a drink himself.

About 20 questions, some laughter, light conversation, and the entire first bottle of Fire Whiskey, most of the boys were starting to feel the effects. Ben and Jae held their liquor the best, more then likely because this was not either one's first time drinking underage. Charlie and Murphy were about one drink away from being completely gassed, and Orion was one away from finding world peace.

“Oh, I've got a good one.” Jae slurred slightly. “Take a drink if you've ever had a crush-” All the boys lifted their drinks, but Jae finished his thought, “on Iris!” They all laughed lightly, but the laughter died out when all five of the boys continued to take a shot.

Murphy and Charlie almost immediately sobered up, and Ben froze like a statue.

“Soooo, we have all had dreams of Iris Rosewood?” Orion clarified.

“Is that a question we are suppose to drink to?” Murphy questioned, looking down into his glass.

“More clarification, perhaps I shall word it this way...” Orion drawled, “if you have a crush on Iris.”

Again, the room fell silent as all five boys took another shot.

A couple of the cleared their throats, Jae coughed into his hand. It had become incredibly awkward, incredibly fast.

“This is uncomfortable.” Charlie broke the silence.

“You all may have crushes on her... But I've loved her.” Ben admitted, swirling his Firewhiskey in his cup. “We have been through too much, and she's been there every step of the way for me.” The other boys stopped murmuring and looked at him. “She brought color and vibrancy into my world and I repaid her by hurting her. Hell, all I ever wanted to do is make sure no one ever hurt her and I think by doing that I've been the one to hurt her the most.” He stated more to himself then anyone else in the room. “I think I've done so much damage that no matter how much I love her, what hope I ever had that she could reciprocate is gone. It died when Rowan did.” The air in the room when from light and jovial to heavy and dark in just a few sentences. “I'm going for a walk.”

“If you get caught after curfew-”

“What? Get detention?” Ben stood, grabbed a jacket of his that had been on the end of his bed and left the dormitory.

His foggy mind supplied that going to the Forbidden Forest was a good idea, and he headed that way. Thunder boomed and lightning popped overhead and he thought briefly about heading back but he continued.

Half way down to the forbidden forest, the sky opened up and let down a torrential rain like Hogwarts had not seen in a very long time. Ben hated getting caught in the rain and made a beeline for Hagrid's hut, hoping the half giant wouldn't mind if he waited out the storm in his house. In about twenty steps he was pushing the door open and going inside.

It was dry and he pulled his wool sweater off and shook his hair to remove excess moisture.

“Hagrid?” He called, but there was no light on and Fang lifted his head up to give him a look. He figured Hagrid must not have been there and walked over to the fireplace and put some logs in a pile to start a fire. He ran his hand over the mantle feeling for matches or anything, but decided to cast a simple spell to ignite the wood. There was instant warmth in the hut as he held his hands out, warming his fingers.

The door to the hut opened, and he turned, his wand at the ready to see a figure in the doorway that was far to small to be Hagrid.

“Ben?” The voice called, before stepping into the light of the fire.

“Iris?” He asked, sliding his wand up his sleeve. “What are you doing out here?”

“I was looking for Moondew for growth potion, I need it for my Herbology project and Snape is being greedy.” Iris explained as she peeled her wet rain slicker off and hung it on the coat rack. “What are you doing out here? Isn't it past curfew?” Ben opened his mouth to tell her, she cut him off. “Never mind.”

“What?” “You'll just say something snarky and I've had a good day, so we'll just leave it alone.” Iris stated as she took out the little jar from her bag and inspected her Moondew leaves. He was about to remark that he wouldn't have done that, but that in itself would just prove her right.

She placed the small corked bottle on the table and stepped over to the fire.

“Where's Hagrid?” He asked.

“He's presenting at the Ministry about Thestrals. He won't be back until tomorrow I think.” She informed him, holding her hands out to the fire, a content look on her face. “Fancy a snack? I know where Hagrid keeps his tea, and I have some chocolate and orange scone in my bag.”

“Why do you have scones with you?”

“I wasn't sure how long I'd have to look for the Moondew, so I brought something to eat with me. Plus sometimes I have to bribe Fang to come with me.” She explained as she went to collect the tea he had stashed on a shelf and get the kettle ready over the fire. Ben felt himself blink rather hard, the effects of the Fire Whiskey starting to turn on him. He was suddenly very hot, and the room was a bit spinny.

He had already shed his sweater, and unbuttoned his collared shirt before he made to sit down on the rug in front of the fire. In hindsight, he should have sat farther from the fire, but he honestly wondered if he would even be able to make it to the chair without spilling himself on the floor anyway. Iris was also Head Girl, if she found out he had been drinking she would either have to report him or deal with it herself and he didn't want to incur her wrath.

He twisted his neck, feeling a pop that seemed to relax him as Iris held out a plate with the scones on it. He took a bite,

“these are really good. Did the house elves make this?”

“Oh no, I've made friends with Pits, he let me make some yesterday down in the kitchens.” Iris explained as she tenderly added the tea into a pot and poured the hot water into the hilariously floral teapot that Hagrid had.

“You could make friends with a dung beetle.” He joked, only partially. She laughed lightly.

They sat in silence for a while before the tea was ready and he watched as Iris poured the tea into two mix matched floral cups and handed him one. He reached for the cream and noticed that Iris blew on hers and drank it straight. It was a new little tidbit of information for him to lock away.

“Do you remember back in 2nd year, you wouldn't go up into the astronomy tower so we turned the artifact rooms ceiling into the night sky?” Iris asked suddenly.

“What made you think about that?” Ben asked as he looked over at her. She shrugged.

“We had tea and scones then, remember?” She gestured at the scones with her teacup. “I just... I like that memory.” Iris admitted.

“Back when I was afraid to even-”

“Would you just shut up!” Iris snapped, clacking her teacup loudly against the saucer. “It's a memory that makes me smile, and that I enjoy, why do you constantly try and belittle things that make me happy? Are you that full of bitterness anymore that you won't let anyone enjoy something as simple as a memory?”

“You're defensive tonight, what has you so wound up?” He snapped back just as angrily.

“I'm defensive?” Iris shouted, standing up to tower over Ben, ready for a fight that had been brewing for weeks. “You're the one that can't even let me relive a memory from when we were twelve without you belittling it!”

“I don't like reliving those memories, it was when I was weak-”

“It was when you were kind.” Iris cut in dangerously. He placed his hands on the floor and hoped that he could stand without falling over. He stood on his feet and looked down at her, truly looked at her for what felt like the first time in weeks.

Iris used to have this childlike innocence about her, with her round baby face, porcelain skin, blue eyes that were wide open for the world. He wasn't exactly sure when the last time he took the time to study her, more then likely before Rowan died, and it looked like everything she had experienced had finally caught up with her.

It was only a matter of time, one can only keep loading the camels back before something as simple as a napkin will break their back. He wondered when it was that Iris had finally broke, and wondered if anyone had even noticed. Iris was the unbreakable, she was the epitome of what people wanted to be, of course people thought she was sturdy as stone. They had taken her for granted.

Hell, he had.

Her lips were almost always in a natural smile, now seemed to be downturned in nature. Her eyes, those were what had grabbed him when he first made eye contact with her because he had never seen eyes that were just that blue, had always been bright and happy. Now, they looked like the good china that people put away for safe keeping, dust piling on it where you can see the color, its just muted. Everything about her seemed muted. Her skin, her hair, she was a soul with the weight of a Kingdom on her shoulders. There was more expectations on her at seventeen then that of twenty people.

Ben felt regret in his belly, and he couldn't keep up this conversation. He knew she was far too close and one push would send her over that edge. He had done enough to push her there, he wasn't going to be the one that pushed her to the breaking point.

“I'm not going to have this conversation.” He shook his head, beginning to button up the few buttons he had loosened earlier. Rain be damned, if he had to get soaked to get away from her and let her cool down, he would. He was just about to walk to the door when Iris called,

“You want to know what I think?” Iris told him firmly, it was not really a question but a thinly veiled declaration masquerading as a question. “I think that you're still terrified.”

That stopped him in his tracks. His hand hovered over the door knob, and the rational part of his brain that would have told him to walk away was flooded by Firewhiskey. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” She was not going down this time, and she was not going to be ignored. “You are still the terrified Muggleborn you always were, only it's the fear that people will still see you as that person.”

“I am not-”

“I can see it in your eyes! You may be able to fool everyone else, but you can't fool me.” She pointed at herself. “I know you better then anyone, Benjamin Copper!” It was a fact that was mildly terrifying, and he hated to admit that. “It's a different type of terror, but it's still there and it still controls you down to your core-”

“No it doesn't! I'm a not that person anymore!” He shouted at her. It wasn't the first time he had raised his voice at her, but it felt much different then the times before. Because she had struck a nerve.

He wasn't the one in control anymore.

His delicate control that he had been clinging to since after the buried vault was quickly disinigrating in his hands and he was scrambling to keep it.

“You haven't become brave, you've become cruel!” Iris told him. He could almost see it like an actual image in his mind, she was taking a sledge hammer to his carefully constructed statue of power, bravery and control. Others had chipped away at it, but Iris had come in and went for the Achilles heel that only she seemed to know existed. “Your trauma is what navigates every single decision you have made! Every decision has been made in fear from the moment you stepped into Hogwarts!” Another critical hit, cracks that could never be fixed started to grow threatening to topple over all of himself.

“That's not true!” He yelled back at her, as though he was trying to convince himself.

“Really? Give me an example.” She dared him.

Her attack seemed to stop because she had chipped away and found the one part of his bravery that wasn't an act. That one tiny part of himself that had been bright and true since the beginning.

The part that she overlooked.

Because it was her.

“You.” He stated simply. Iris jumped a bit at the declaration, clearly not seeing his answer coming. “You terrified me. You were loud, outspoken, brave, already good at magic and dueling, you came from a pure blood family, and you were attractive. What wasn't intimidating about you? Especially to a muggleborn like me?” It was his turn to talk and he was going to seize the opportunity, as it seemed he had shocked her into silence in the middle of a fight. “But I approached you first, remember that? I thanked you for standing up to Merula. My palms were sweaty, my heart was racing, I felt like I was going to vomit, yet I rejected that fear to talk to you because there was something about you that felt like a damn gravitational pull!” He took a step closer to her and she held her ground, starring up at him. Her eyes were still alight with fire but there was something else there, a vulnerability that he had seen in her eyes too often since the buried vault. “From brooms and books, to time in the artifact room, I cared about you more then I cared about anyone else, so much so that I went with you to the buried vault! Despite the fact that I thought I would die, I went because I cared more about you then I did myself!”

Iris's lips were in a tight line, and her eyes glistened with unshed tears as she shook her head.

“Ben don't.” She warned, almost knowing where he was going.

“You're right, every decision I have made has been in fear... The biggest fear I have above all others-”

“Ben stop!”

There was no stopping now. He had regained the control.

“The fear that some how, in some horrible way that I can't control, that you will be hurt or die because you put everyone ahead of yourself in the most reckless and honorable ways!” He felt like he had become a new man, and that he had become braver in the years since the buried vault, but the fire whiskey in his veins was a form of liquid courage that he was sure no potion could replicate. His thought process was interrupted by stinging on his cheek.

Iris had slapped him.  

“Don't you dare say it.” She warned, her voice like ice. “Not after the way you have treated me-”

“I love you!” He wanted to shout it at her, hoping that if he yelled louder then her that she would realize he was being truthful, but all it would do is prove her point that he had just became cruel. She closed her eyes, and he watched a her fight within herself, her fingers curled into fists and he was worried for a moment that she was going to deck him. “Iris.” He reached out and placed a hand over her curled fist, “I love you.”

She shook her head but made no effort to pull away from him. They had went to war with one another and now both stood in front of their dismantled battlements.

Iris was the first to move, leaning forward to rest her forehead against his sternum.  

“I miss you, Ben.” Iris almost sobbed. His hands let go of her fists, and wrapped protectively around her back, holding her tightly. He lowered his head, his nose resting on the top of her head and breathed deeply.

He had finally admitted it, and said it out loud, given it a sense of being. He felt like a weight had been lifted, and he didn't know he had been carrying it around with him.

“I'll work on being less cruel, and more kind again.” He promised her.

“I'll accept that.” Her hands that had been balled up and resting against him opened and she laid her palms and fingers out flat against his chest, before moving them up to wrap around his neck and pull him into a hug. She had to stand on her tip toes in order to get her chin to rest on his shoulders. “Remember when I used to be taller then you?” There was a lightness in her voice that he had missed, and he smiled.

“Yeah, now you're short.” He joked.

“You're no giant yourself.”

“At least I'm taller then you.”

“Everyone is, except for Professor Flitwick.”

“Even that's pretty close.” He laughed and she tapped the back of his head with her hand. She pulled back and looked into his eyes, and smiled gently, placing the hand that had previously slapped him delicately on his face.

“I'm sorry I slapped you.”

“I'm just surprised it took you this long to slap me.” He told her honestly. “I'm sorry that I've hurt you, and I'm going to endever to do better.” Iris nodded and wrapped her arms around him again and listened to how fast his heart was beating, and smiled, knowing hers was beating just as fast.

He had not expected his drunken evening walk to end like this.

[mrsfrecklesmarauders]

The snitch

It was Christmas 1974 at the Potter House. James was bored. There was a big party going on but only with adults. None of his friends could be there this year and James was about to lose it. Listening to The Who at top volume, he tried to read some book but he couldn't concentrate. He was going to die of boredom.

Few hours later, James woke up from a unexpected sleep. He dreamt with Lily Evans. Again. It was always the same. She was beautiful, dressed in a white dress, her hair falling down, running through a field with flowers of every color. James tried to chase her but he never reached her. Bullshit. He needed to forget about that.

Lily Evans was only an annoying girl who had rejected him many times. Stupid girl. She wasn't even that pretty. Well she was. Of course she was. Bloody hell, she was beautiful.

James decided to go downstairs. The guests were gone and a few elves were cleaning the kitchen quietly. James heard a laughter. Through the door he saw his parents dancing to a very romantic song.

The way they looked into each other's eyes. The way Fleamont was holding his wife between his arms. The way Fleamont was softly singing the lyrics of the song. The way Euphemia smiled at him. It was magical. They were so happy. James smiled and wondered if he could ever feel that way about someone.

"Didn't I tell you it is rude to spy on people James?" said Fleamont still looking at his wife.

Euphemia laughed.

James cursed under his breath and blushed.

"Sorry. I wasn't spying. You were very loud. I couldn't sleep" James lied.

Euphemia smiled and hugged her son.

"Did you have a good time sweertheart?" said Euphemia kissing her son

"The best time" said James sarcastically "It's there any chance you'll let me go to Lupins' on New Years?"

"Good try". Euphemia left to the kitchen as she patted James' shoulder.

Mr. Potter looked at James from the couch. "Sit down, ma boy" he said and lit a cigarette.

"Can I have one of those?" James said sitting down next to his father.

"Yeah right" said Fleamont laughing

"It's better to start smoking with you, I'm gonna do it anyway"

"You're mother was right. You are a nightmare, child" said Fleamont with a big smile on his face.

"I'm sorry your friends couldn't make it, James"

"It's alright"

"Maybe next Christmas we will take them to the beach house"

James simply nodded. He looked at his father.

"Can I ask you something, Fleamont?"

"Since when do you call me Fleamont?"

"Since now, Fleamont"

Fleamont laughed loudly and looked at his son.

"Alright. Ask away" Fleamont grinned

"How did you know that you were in love with mom?"

Fleamont smiled "Girl trouble, ha?"

James sighed

"There's this girl. On my class. Ginger. With a really bad temper"

"Those are the best ones"

"I disagree" James protested "She hates me. One time she hit me with a book. It hurt"

Fleamont laughed

"Well, I know you son. You probaly did something to make her angry, didn't you?"

"Maybe" James shrugged

Fleamont turned off his cig.

"Let me give you an advice, James. An advice about girls. Now, you are a Quidditch fan, aren't you?"

"Obviously" James said excited. Quidditch was his passion.

"There are three types of balls in a Quidditch game right?"

"The bludgers, the quaffle and the snitch" James said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Well" Fleamont continued "There are three types of girls in this world as well: bludgers, quaffles and snitches"

James looked confused. "What?"

"Well there's the bludgers. Girls that come with one intention: use you and hurt you.. Those girls, you have to avoid. Or you might ger hurt and disqualified forever"

"Like in the real game"

"Exactly" said Fleamont "Now there are the quaffles. Important in the game. You can play around with them, and score as many points as you like, but do you win the game?"

"No"

"So you can keep playing the game but you will never win"

James nodded understanding "And the snitches?"

"Those types of girls are unique. Really difficult to find, difficult to reach. But once you catch them..."

"You win the game" James finished

"Exactly" said Fleamont pleased with himself "Promise me something James" he looked at his son in the eyes "Don't settle with just a Quaffle. Find yourself a Snitch. And when you do, don't let her go. Okay?"

"Is mom your snitch?"

"All the way son, all the way" Fleamont sighed looking at the kitchen, where his wife was.

James smiled "Thanks dad. I'll find a snitch"

Years later James watched Lily sleeping. Now his girlfriend. So beautiful and perfect. He thought about what his father had said.

Lily Evans was his girlfriend. James was so lucky. His heart was beating fast.

Lily yawned waking up. James tried to act normal.

"James" Lily smiled slightly blushing "What are you staring at?"

He thought about what his father had said. He knew it. He always had known.

James smirked. One of the widest he had given.

"You're my snitch" he said

"What?" Lily snorted "Is this some kind of insult or something? Are you making fun of me?"

James laughed kissing Lily's head. "No..." he said "You are my snitch. It means that I had won the game"

"The game?" Lily asked puzzled "What game?"

James laughed even more. Realizing that Lily was his snitch made him so happy. He needed to tell his dad. Fleamont would be pleased as well. James needed to tell him.

"Nothing just kiss me" he answered

Lily hummed into the kiss "You're an idiot James Potter" she said "But you're my idiot"

They kissed more and more. Until they were out of breath.